Macerated Strawberry-Basil Crepes

In Spain it was tapas. In Italy it was gelato. Here in France I’ve been hooked on crepes. I should have known this would happen, because it always happens. I have a predisposition to eating sweets with the most severe form of Dionysian indulgence. It’s gotten so bad that the last time I went to the doctor I found out my blood type is now chocolate.

Macerated Strawberry-Basil Crepe

My favorite creperie is literally across the street from where I’m living, taunting me daily. I know, we live in an age where the term “literally” has fallen victim to hyperbole, but this time I actually mean it. LITERALLY. ACROSS. THE STREET. Some nights I hang out my widow and stare at it wistfully, if not angrily, because who can sleep when there are crepes so close by? I wonder if dogs get angry about these kinds of things. Dogs can’t really have crepes.


Macerated Strawberry-Basil CrepeStrawberries | Crepe Mixture

Once a day I amble down to the creperie for my banana nutella fix where, in spite of missing four of his most prominent teeth, the vendor greets me with a semi-toothy smile of recognition. He knows what I’m there for.


Crepes are pancakes gone right. Spawned from Brittany in the north of France, they are made from a thin silky batter of egg, milk and flour. It’s then poured onto a hot skillet and cooked into thin round veils of pastry that you can roll around whatever filling you choose, whether sweet or savory. Go crazy! The world is your crepe, or whatever.

Macerated Strawberry-Basil Crepe Mixture

Today on my way down, a disheveled homeless man I pass daily was flashing his bare testicles through the zipper of his ratty pants, showcasing the magic that is Paris. His dog looked up at me with weepy eyes, possibly wondering when Jesus was coming to collect him.

You never know what you’ll run into here, and I’m still trying to decide whether that’s good or bad.



Macerated Strawberry-Basil Crepe

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  • July 30, 2012 - 7:16 pm | Permalink

    I’ve been eating banana and nutella crepes not stop since arriving in Paris. Perhaps that’s why I’ve put on 5 kilos in three weeks?

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