elb's hovel of thoughts

Thursday, April 06, 2006


The oldest encounter I have had with crepes is probably that which I had at Marche, the Curve, KL, Malaysia. Which was not too long ago really, something like last year? And I remember looking at it and asking my friend what was in it. 'Turkey and cheese', the friend went, or something to that effect, as I gave a wtf-is-meat-doing-in-a-pancake look.

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Crepe, Restaurant Marche, The Curve, Malaysia. 2005.

I completely put that episode behind me, until last week during my little excursion to France. I had at least 7 crepes over 5 days, ranging from those filled with Grand Marnier liquor, to those filled with champignon (mushrooms) to oeuf jambon fromage (egg, ham and cheese) crepes.

Not only were the fillings of different varieties, but I also experienced different methods used. Some used premade crepes, while others made them fresh on the spot. The two Grand Marnier crepes that I had were also different; one of them (bought at the flea market) was literally spilling out from the crepe, whereas the other one (somewhere around Montmatre) merely sogged the crepe. No prizes for which was better.

Documented below is the crepe making process, bought somewhere around Rue de Grenelle. The crepe in question is of the oeuf jambon fromage variety.

The batter is spread out on the pan using a wooden contraceptive (not shown)

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One side of the crepe starts to cook.

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The cook starts to flip the crepe over

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The reverse side of the crepe. You can see that one side is cooked.

Ham and cheese are added to the crepe. We were engrossed in friendly conversation.

'Where are you from? China?' he asks, a question echoed by the other female customer as I was taking pictures of him.

'London,' I replied. It was probably the first time I never mentioned Malaysia when somebody asked me my origins.

The reply certainly caught them off guard. The ladies' previously friendly facade changed as she mentioned with a bit more frost in her voice, 'I like the Portabello market. Very nice'. The joy of Anglo-French relations. Perhaps I should have just stuck with Malaysia.

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The cook starts to close the crepe, when I realise he forgot my egg!

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The egg is hastily added after I correct him.

The crepe cost €4.50. I mistakenly took out a £5 note. Whoops.

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Burp! Crepe to go! On the other hand, I'm completely sick of crepes now.


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