Rise and shine
and a recipe for Nordic breakfast crepes to fuel your morning
If I’ve been feeling a little groggy and out of sorts this week, I only have George Hudson to blame.
The return to Standard Time, with its lure of an extra hour of sleep, lulls us into thinking we’ve gained some valuable time; but while our devices might automatically update the time, our Neanderthal bodies are still looking for the morning light changes that tell us it’s really time to get up.
Rather than an idea proposed by Benjamin Franklin, as is commonly believed, Daylight Savings Time was initially the brainchild of New Zealand entomologist George Verson Hudson, who wanted more daylight time to study bugs. By the time the idea took hold in 1918, the sales pitch was less about nature and more a postwar energy-savings measure.
Either way, it was immediately detested by farmers, who somehow couldn’t explain to the cows that they would need to wait an extra hour to be milked.
A matter of time
The practice of fiddling with the clocks has had its proponents and detractors from the start. After great debate, Ontario voted to abolish Daylight Savings Time in 2020—but only if Quebec and New York State agreed to do the same. You can see where that ended. We got that extra hour of sleep last weekend, again.
To make matters even more confusing, there are already parts of Ontario, British Columbia and Quebec that don’t ever change their clocks, while Yukon has abandoned DST, as has Saskatchewan. Forget trying to remember what parts of Europe are springing backwards or forwards; we have enough trouble keeping it straight here.
Those biannual shifts do more than steal or add an hour of sleep: they disrupt our internal rhythms and overall health, especially in a country like Canada where daylight hours already swing dramatically from one region to another. And energy savings, one of the original ideas that cemented DST into existence, are nominal at best.
Messing with Mother Nature
Perhaps the best reason to quit changing the clock is to leave Mother Nature to do her job.
But if there’s one thing we humans can’t resist, it’s trying to master time. We move the clocks back, then hurry ourselves forward, chasing a version of balance that never quite arrives. Whether it’s the shifted hours or rushed mornings, we're in a no-win race to try and improve what nature already gets right.
There’s been a growing chorus calling for a return—or abandonment, depending on your perspective—of this rather unnatural idea of messing with Mother Nature’s wristwatch.
I hope the voices of reason prevail. It’s not more daylight I’m looking for, or an elusive extra hour of sleep. It’s the enchantment of seeing the sky lighten in the slowest possible way, day after day, until suddenly there’s a crocus and it’s spring.
That doesn’t require any manipulation on our part. This mysterious, magical planet we’re allowed to inhabit requires only reverence, thankfulness and a tiny bit of patience from us, no matter what time it is.
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Nordic breakfast crepes
10-12 crepes
Whether we’re rushing out the door in full daylight or fumbling in the dark for our shoes, breakfast has become a matter of convenience and speed, no matter what time it is. Breakfast in much of North America is a race: protein bar in one hand, phone in the other. An upgrade might be cereal, a smoothie or a matcha latte.
Travel a little, and you see that every country greets the morning differently. Breakfast has its own accent and pace wherever you go.
In Japan, it’s a breakfast “set”: rice, protein, vegetables, and soup, presented neatly in small dishes. In Morocco, a tagine of chickpeas and eggs might be served, while Turkey offers menemen, a skillet dish of tomato, peppers, cheese and eggs. India has as many breakfast variations as spices, while a Dane might enjoy an open-faced sandwiches of smoked fish and cheese on rye bread.
While vastly different in composition, what they all share is the luxury of time to prepare something, sit and savour a quiet moment before the rush of the day begins.
These Nordic breakfast crepes are inspired by Finland’s rahkaletut: light, tangy quark crepes traditionally served with berries. My version blends Greek yogurt, oats and flour into a protein-rich batter that cooks up golden and tender. A touch of lemon zest brightens the flavour, making these feel both wholesome and indulgent.
Headnote:
Quark: Try these with quark if you can find it. A smooth fresh cheese, somewhere between Greek yogurt and ricotta, quark is naturally high in protein and low in lactose.
Make ahead: The batter keeps well, covered, in the refrigerator overnight. It will thicken as the oats and flax absorb liquid; just stir in 1–2 tablespoons of milk or water before cooking to bring it back to a pourable consistency.
Ingredients
1½ cups (375 g) full-fat Greek yogurt or quark (see headnote)
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons each rolled oats and flour (or almond flour for a gluten-free version)
Zest of 1 lemon
1½ teaspoons flaxseed meal, optional
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon butter or coconut oil
Optional toppings: Fresh berries, pomegranate seeds, crushed walnuts, a spoon of skyr or Greek yogurt, drizzle of olive oil, lemon zest, a squeeze of lemon juice.
In a blender or food processor, combine the yogurt, eggs, oats, flour, lemon zest, flaxseed meal, vanilla, maple syrup and salt. Blend until the mixture is completely smooth and slightly thick, about 1 minute.
Let the batter sit for 15–30 minutes at room temperature. This allows the oats and flaxseed to absorb moisture, thickening and flavouring the batter By the time you’ve had your shower and gotten dressed, you’ll be ready to eat.
Heat the butter or oil in a nonstick pan over medium heat. Pour about ¼ cup of batter onto the pan for each crepe. Cook for 2–3 minutes per side, until golden and set. The edges should look firm before flipping.
Stack two to three warm crepes on a plate and finish with a topping of your choice.
I've been sullen about the darkness descending at 3 pm here...I'm a late in the day creature. Those delicious pancakes perhaps will give me the mood boost!
I really enjoyed this piece Elizabeth, particularly the line about watching the sun slowly rise. I like how it is always in a hurry to get up in summer, springing into the sky like a dog chasing seagulls at the beach. In the winter down here, the sun rises like a nana shuffling out to the kitchen in her slippers and dressing gown, all serene from sleep. I don't miss many sunrises, is one of the gifts of life on earth to my mind.
Now to your recognitions of slower breakfast rituals, that's one of the reasons I rise early, as I don't want to be rushed in the gentle hours.