Powdered Sugar Vegan Crepes & The Afro Influence of French Cuisine

The overlooked African influences in French cooking and the costs of culinary sophistication

I learned how to make powdered sugar from my friend Gretchen, one of the early pioneers in the hemp industry (before the culture vultures brought it to its demise). We met two decades ago in Humboldt County during an indoor cannabis harvest. Amid our cackling and the rhythmic trimming, a group of us women forged a bond that has deepened over shared experiences—including a memorable dinner party at a French restaurant in celebration of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) and Albert Hofmann. I’ll never forget how profound and silly that night was. I can always tell when psychedelics hit by the way I giggle and the way my body and spirit responds to its laughter. I’ll also never forget how silly I felt not knowing how easy it was to make powdered sugar and crepes. In that way it captures the sweet complexities dusted onto my memory. And in true Mennlay form, the simplicity belies a much richer narrative on French cuisine.

The art of French food: butter and exploitation

To many, French cuisine is regarded as the pinnacle of culinary sophistication, celebrated for its intricate techniques and rich flavors. Yet, beneath the layers of buttery croissants and delicate sauces lies a complex history, particularly the influences from its former African colonies that have shaped French culinary identity over the past three centuries. This intersection of cultures enriches the French culinary landscape while revealing the historical narratives that inform our understanding of what makes food high quality.

Butter, the foundational ingredient and the main character of my cookbook, The Art of Weed Butter, has been the key component that elevate dishes with richness and depth. The flaky, buttery layers of a perfect croissant owe their texture and flavor to a generous use of butter. Similarly, sauces like beurre blanc and hollandaise rely on butter as a key emulsifier, creating a luxurious mouthfeel that defines French food and its flavor.

However, the elevation of butter feels like a culinary shortcut, especially for those mindful of ethical considerations surrounding the global dairy industry. To me, the extraction of butter raises all the feels surrounding animal exploitation and, more broadly, about the ways we extract and adapt culinary practices from diverse cultures. While French cuisine has been celebrated for its high art form, we overlook its historical ties to culinary practices from countries like Morocco, Madagascar, Egypt, and Ethiopia. The adaptation of dishes, spices, and techniques from North and West African regions illustrates that French cuisine is enriched by diverse flavors rather than existing in isolation. Today, North African and West African restaurants are at the helm of evolving and redefining French culinary practices, showcasing how these vibrant traditions continue to influence and enhance the gastronomic landscape of France.

North African and West African restaurants are at the helm of evolving and redefining French culinary practices, showcasing how these vibrant traditions continue to influence and enhance the gastronomic landscape of France.

Redefining culinary sophistication

This perception of prestige in cuisine stems from colonial attitudes that equate European culinary practices with refinement while relegating African dishes to the category of "peasant food." Such sentiments have permeated the American political landscape, where lies, misinformation, and racist xenophobia towards cuisines like those from Haiti expose deep-seated biases in how we represent food from the African diaspora. Yet, the complexity and depth of African culinary traditions—evident in the layered flavors of fufu and the unique textures of injera—deserve equal reverence and recognition.

Colonial history is rife with extraction practices. French colonialism, which spanned vast regions in West and Central Africa, was predicated on the extraction of resources—both natural and cultural. Culinary traditions of colonized peoples were often dismissed as "primitive," yet these traditions are rich in flavor, technique, and history. French cuisine, as we know it, was not developed in a vacuum but profoundly shaped by the spices, ingredients, and cooking methods contributed by African and Arabic cultures.

The crepe, often celebrated as a hallmark of French cuisine, shares an intriguingly undeniable connection with injera, a traditional flatbread from East Africa. Scholars suggest its history may date back to at least 100 B.C., with the teff grain used to make it identified in archaeological sites as far back as 3350 B.C. in Egyptian pyramids. In contrast, crepes emerged much later in the 13th century, yet both are crafted using a similar technique that transforms a simple fermented batter into versatile culinary staples. While there isn’t necessarily a fermentation process with crepes, there is a “resting” period that takes anywhere from 30 minutes to 48 hours to help the starch molecules bind to the liquid to improve the texture and flavor. Time is the magic ingredient of fermentation. These parallels help us to enriches our understanding of these dishes and challenges the narrative of culinary exclusivity, revealing how much of what we consider “French” cuisine is deeply intertwined with global traditions that warrant recognition.

A cycle of extraction

Consider the process of creating a classic French dish. The culinary techniques celebrated in French kitchens often draw from a lineage of practices borrowed—often without acknowledgment—from cultures that have been marginalized. This cultural appropriation (some of y’all are going to be mad at that word) being used, but the extraction of culture and animal products: both involve taking from a source without regard for the life or legacy being consumed.

This extraction extends beyond ingredients to the narratives surrounding cuisine. The stories of enslaved chefs and their contributions to French American culinary history, like those of James Hemings, have been systematically erased, much like the animals whose lives are exploited for their milk, their cheese, and their flesh. When we celebrate the art form of French cuisine without recognizing its African influences both in its past and present, we perpetuate a cycle of appropriation and erasure, reinforcing colonial hierarchies that prioritize European practices over others.

The ethical implications of using butter is lightweight about animal rights; but also serves as a metaphor for recognizing the complex culinary traditions and histories. To consume butter is to engage in a cycle of extraction. Just as the dairy industry exploits animals for profit, the culinary world has often exploited the richness of African, Arabic and Middle Eastern cuisines without giving due credit or respect.

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In this light, I wanted to specifically craft this as a plant-based recipe to honor the diverse culinary influences that shape our food culture while rejecting the systems that exploit both animals and marginalized peoples. This choice reflects a commitment to sustainability, compassion, and recognition of the histories intertwined with our food.

The journey of the crepe—from its potential East African roots to its place in French gastronomy—invites us to engage with food as a shared human experience and of its influences that enrich our palate and understanding of food.

The Recipe —