Snapshots of Saint-Etienne: The crêperie that broke my heart

The perfect crêpe is an enigma.

The idea behind it is simple enough. A thin, light, delicate pancake made of wheat flour. Its name derives from the latin crispa, meaning "curled." The crêpe is a specialty of Bretagne, the northwestern French region reknown for other such gastronomic delights as cider and chouchen (a liquor made from wild honey). It's considered a national dish.

But take a closer look at the crêpe, and you'll discover the deception behind its apparent simplicity. It is more than a French pancake. It's breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. It's 1 cup flour, 2 eggs, 1/2 cup milk, 1/2 cup water, 2 tablespoons butter, and a pinch of salt. Or 2 cups flour, a pinch of salt, 3 eggs, 2 and 1/4 cups milk, and 1/4 cup butter. Or 2 cups flour, 3 eggs, 1 cup milk, 1/3 cup sugar, 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, 2 tablespoons rum, and 1 cup still mineral water (this last one courtesy of food goddess Clotilde at Chocolate & Zucchini).

The crêpe can be savory or sweet. If sweet, it's a crêpe sucrée. Of these there are endless varities: nutella crêpe, strawberry crêpe, crêpe à la crème de marron (a sweetened purée of chestnuts), crêpe with chocolate-coconut-banana, crêpe Suzette (prepared with orange peel and Grand Marnier, and lit on fire). My personal favorite remains the crêpe beurre-sucre, made with salted butter and sugar.

If it's savory, it's referred to as a galette and is typically made of buckwheat flour. Galettes, too, enjoy a wide array of possible fillings. Emmental cheese, Emmental and ham, steak and Emmental, chicken and Emmental, feta-tomato-and-spinach, egg-ham-and-spinach, egg-ham-and-Emmental. And so on. (Emmental is extremely popular in France; it is one of the top two most consumed cheeses in the country. The other is Camembert.)

There is even a kebab galette. A crêpe filled with kebab meat, tomato, lettuce, onions, harissa, and yogurt sauce. I was really excited about this when I first got to St. E. On one of our kebab outings, I remarked to Corinne that these kebab galettes reminded me of burritos. They come wrapped in tinfoil, which you peel back as you eat them in order to avoid them getting cold.

Those of you who know me well can see where I'm going with this.

Corinne immediately shot down my brilliant idea for "French burritos."

Me: See, you use the crêpe, but you fill it with, like, red beans, rice, and carne asada and stuff.
Her: ...
Me: Frex-Mex!
Her: Um, no.

And then, there's the matter of the crêperies. Which are ubiquitous in France. Conveniently located on street corners, charging no more than 2-3 euros for the most basic crêpes. But since there is no universal crêpe recipe, there is zero guarantee that the crêperie you happen upon, as you make your way to the movies or come back home from work, will be any good.

I've learned this lesson the hard way. Through trial and error, I found the best place to get a crêpe fix in St. E., just two blocks away from Place du Peuple (and a mere 10 minutes from my studio).


Since January, I've bought at least a crêpe a week at this little tin shack. And always the same one: a crêpe beurre-sucre. One euro and eighty centimes. Something about the batter kept me coming back. The crêpes managed to be soft and doughy while maintaining their lightness. I'm not a fan of crispy crêpes, nor do I enjoy heavy Hummer crêpes that you regret eating about halfway through. My perfect crêpe tastes rich and filling but leaves you feeling light enough to eat another. And then another. This crêperie delivered with admirable consistency. To such a degree that, to be perfectly honest, I've actually gone about three times a week in the past month.

Until just recently. When ownership of this crêperie changed hands. From a kindly brunette crêpe master to an equally kindly but woefully inept blond crêpe novice. Gone is the batter I've grown to depend on. And it isn't just me. Corinne, too, has been deeply affected by the loss. Between the two of us, we've sampled the other streetside crêperies, to no avail.

Corinne 5:34 PM: I just tried the last crepe place that i know of, not that great. what am i going to do!?

Somewhere, I read that you need to let the batter rest for a couple of hours before frying up the crêpes. Or maybe it's a different ratio of eggs-to-flour-to-milk. Or a lack of some secret ingredient.

The situation remains unchanged. And my belly remains brokenhearted.