The French Tortilla: Le Crepe

You won’t believe this, but that dandy little crepe pan that I’ve been using for two weeks now to make tortillas and fajitas, and quesadillas also makes…crepes.

Really, it does.

A little history on the super-thin French pancake: originally from Brittany, they’re made with wheat flour for sweet crepes, and with buckwheat flour for savory crepes. Now, you can find them all over the country, and in Paris, they’re the best fast food around.

And they’re easy to make at home, too.

My recipe is from a 1988 issue of Bon Appetit, which says that it makes 20 crepes, but I’ve never gotten that many out of a recipe. I usually get around ten.

Give them a try, with or without a crepe pan. Any skillet will do. Fill ‘em up with your favorite jam, or drizzle with honey, or sugar, butter…or if you want, you can add savory things, such as ham, chicken, or whatever else you’ve got in the fridge. The French would frown at this, but they probably wouldn’t like me using their crepe pan for tortillas, anyway.

Which is really what these are. I know, I know, they’re pancakes, but they’re also a lot like tortillas. You can put stuff inside of them and roll them up and eat them like soft tacos, or you can put them on a plate and put lots of cheese inside of them, and instead of Corona beer, you drink cider. See? Same thing.

Basic Crepes
3 eggs
1 ¼ cups (or more) milk
¾ cup all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons butter, melted

Blend first four ingredients on high speed until batter is smooth. Gradually whisk in three tablespoons of the melted butter. Let batter stand at room temperature for one hour.

Clarify remaining butter by pouring into a small cup, discarding water and solids at bottom and skimming off foam. If batter is too thick, whisk in additional milk 1 teaspoon at a time until texture is consistency of whipping cream.

Heat pan or skillet over medium-high heat until water sizzles when it hits the surface. Brush pan with clarified butter.

Put two tablespoons of batter on the pan, swirling the pan around (or using the nifty French T-shaped stick that comes with crepe pans, as I do here) so the batter spreads evenly and thinly. Note: This is NOT the time to reach for another gulp of coffee, kids. The key here is to work quickly.

The crepe will cook in 45 seconds or less; then flip it to the other side, and let it cook for about 20 seconds.

I told you. This is fast food.

Now, you may make up all of them, putting wax paper in between each crepe, and store in the fridge for a few days. Just take them out, and reheat on the pan, brushed with clarified butter, and you’re good to go.

Or, eat them right away, as I did, covered, inside and out, with Nutella.

By the way, if you’re passing through town, here are a few of my favorite creperies in Paris: Yves Camdeborde’s tiny walk-up creperie, Le Creperie du Comptoir, next to his gastrobistro, Le Comptoir, where he stuffs giant crepes with chicken breast, arugula, sundried tomatoes and gruyere, among other things; the traditional creperie, Le Petit Josselin, near Montparnasse, which makes a gi-normous crepe with spinach, bacon, gruyere, and a fried egg; and the little crepe stand on the corner of Boulevard St. Germain and Rue Bonaparte, next to the St. Germain metro stop and across the street from Les Deux Magots. Just a simple ham and cheese crepe. It’s really not fancy at all. But on a cold day, on my way to my hairdresser down the street, I always stop and get one and it warms up my hands (and tummy), and as I walk, and eat my crepe, I think about how lucky I am to be here, just walking and eating a crepe on my way to see my hairdresser, Stephane, who always plays my hometown guy Stevie Ray Vaughn as he hums along and cuts my hair.

Le Creperie du Comptoir
9 Carrefour de l’Odeon
01-44-27-07-97

Le Petit Josselin
59 Rue du Montparnasse
01-43-22-91-81