Flavor Boulevard

My cravings fluctuate from time to time, and it’s not always rational. One time I bought two kilos of prunes, ate some for a few days, now the rest are sitting patiently in my pantry. Then I used to have a crush on chocolate bars, the result is an almost complete collection of Endangered Species Chocolate wrappers, but a few bars have been on my desk for over six months. As of late, I’ve grown a crepe tooth. A matchbox kitchen fifteen-minute leisure walk from Sather Tower, called Crepes A-Go-Go, is to blame.

A quick drop of sound sizzles when the spatula folds and presses the fluffy layer. The oversize pancake lies supine. The heat is low. The quiet, stout chef casually sprinkles some Swiss cheese and some pineapple; he seems bored, or maybe I’m just too excited. I like my crepe soft and thick. Heck, I even like my banh xeo soft and thick, no matter how many people tell me that a qualified Vietnamese sizzling crepe should be crispy and paper thin. I watch the cheese melt. The chef lets the doughy pancake rest a minute or two, then deftly folds it again into one sixth of a disc, sweeps and swings it into a clear plastic container. My five-buck-and-a-quarter dinner to go seems sluggish and content like a well-fed baby pig.

And soon I am one happy hog myself. The cheese-turkey-pineapple crepe is a rich and chewy mess. The first bite is so good I ditch the plastic fork (which doesn’t do much at cutting anyway). Pineapple juice streams out at the tip as I scramble to bite sideway, and when the crepe reduces to a sizable conic chunk I use it to wipe clean the juice. The last mouthful is as rewarding and lingering as it can be, my fingers wet with butter and cheese. But my embarrassing story doesn’t just end here.

I feel full, yet still want more, but I know better than letting the tongue fool the tummy. So I save the luke warm sweet crepe for later. And I forget about it. It sits in my fridge for over a day. The next morning, filled with guilt, I microwave my sweet crepe. Cut-up fruits don’t behave really well with refrigerating and microwaving, the banana turns overripe, the kiwi and the strawberry taste zealously sour. But the crepe still has its fleece-like texture, buttery, thick, and snuggly. The squirt of lemon juice gives a refreshing fragrant. I scrape off the fruit chunks, sink my teeth, and sheepishly smile.

Seven years and counting:
Crepes A-Go-Go near UC Berkeley campus
2334 Telegraph Avenue (between Durant and Bancroft)
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 486-2310

Borrowed from the receipt: Bon Appetit, Bon Journee

Exchange rate:
Cheese-turkey-pinapple crepe: $5.25;
Strawberry-banana-kiwi crepe: $5.50

Other tasty creperies in the Bay Area:
Cafe Grillades in San Bruno
Crêpes Café in Menlo Park

The San Francisco airport is a great excuse to eat out on the other side of the bay. Catching a morning flight? Breakfast at Milbrae Pancake House. Picking up parents and wanting to show them around at mid day? Lunch at La Boheme in Burlingame. Arriving in a lazy afternoon after four hours confined in the airplane’s seat with a neck cramp and in the mood for something nice, light but hearty? A crepe at Cafe Grillades of San Bruno sounds just right.

It’s one of those homey places where you can nibble a panini while reading the chronicles, sit by the window and gaze at a quiet parking lot, or meet someone for a casual interview. It has the boureks and the Algerian couscous if you want to impress old friends with an interesting order, but it also serves classic ham and cheese on toast all day. It will satisfy both the burger hunger and the vegan healtheist. It has the West European facade, the Mediterranean sum up, the North Saharan novelty, the San Franciscan appeal. In plain view, Cafe Grillades has a pretty good all-inclusive menu.

But we came here for crepes, and get crepes we did. Somehow the herbivore in Mudpie and the carnivore in me switched place that day. Mudpie decidedly took on the Algiers Merguez, spicy lamb and beef sausage mingled with chunky potatoes,  mushy tomatoes, and slabs of onions in crème fraiche (first picture). I, feeling betrayed by the chicken burrito on the plane, went down the defiant path with a ratatouille flat square hot pocket.

My reasoning was simple: I like meat, so if I like something sans meat then that vegan thing must be really good. And it was. In fact, it was better than the Merguez sausage crepe. Eggplant was one of those healthy veggies my mom had to funnel down my throat, but here it fit in so well with zucchini, bell pepper, and more onion. Feta cheese clumped a few tangy notes. The crepe innards were definitive of satisfaction.

Gratified, we charged onto dessert. A mango crepe brulee with brown sugar, creme fraiche, and caramelized top. This mix between a tart freshness and a fixating sweetness, some chewy underripe fruit and a thin malleable encasing,  is, my friends, the best any sweet crepe can be.

Cafe Grillades
851 Cherry Ave #16
San Bruno, CA 94066
(650) 589-3778

Pocket thinning:
Ratatouille (8.95)
+ Spicy Algiers (9.50)
+ Mango crepe brulee (7.95) = $28.84

With vision unstoppable by foliage, Mudpie saw the sign above hidden behind rows of trees as we were roaming Menlo Park for a lunch spot on a Friday afternoon one month ago. Question asked, “should we go there or keep looking for something else?”, as we drove past another block. It should be noted that we missed a turn once, chose direction by random illogical preference (as I had no idea where which direction led to). We also passed a bunch of places with clarity and apparent popularity, or places that Mudpie has tried before. But we were out for a food hunt, not chicken shopping at grocery stores, and this place fits the adventure. Answer made, “let’s go there.” So turn we did, a parking spot was not too hard to find on the side of the place, passing by the nonchalant gaze of customers sitting outdoor and in we went.

I can’t quite call it a restaurant. Some call every eating stop with chairs and tables a restaurant, but this is an example of one that doesn’t fit into the category. A restaurant is brisk. The bistro is relaxing. Paintings on the wall for sale, empty wooden seats painted blue, wooden tables with a filled glass water jug to help yourself and a trifling vase of fresh flowers. The usual small box of sweetener and salt, which I play with while waiting. I can’t remember if there was AC, but it was comfortable. The menu says it’s a family business, and it sure looks like it. A friendly but quiet young lady greeted us at the counter, and as we stumbled around the menu overhead, a stocky man in his 30s, who turned out to be the chef, cordially invited us to seat ourselves and gave us two menus in print. We felt better as we were no longer blocking the narrow entrance to the counter. There was no customer inside.
Normally I like to plunge right into something weird catchy on the menu, but since I had such a hot wonderful savourastic chicken crepe one wintry night on the street right outside the WSCTC, I couldn’t resist the memory and ordered Chicken & Creamy Dijon Sauce savory crepe this time. With a little persuasion, Mudpie overcame the American disgust distrust for pâté, and ordered Duck Rillettes (duck meat pate with cornichon on baguette). (I felt elevated as if I could speak French.)

A peek inside.
It is so simple, just like the atmosphere of the bistro itself. A layer of rillettes, a few cornichons (pickled gherkins), sandwiched between two pieces of bread. As Mudpie noted, it’s something you can make at home, if you know where to get or how to make rillettes. The additional quirky cornichons were perhaps supposed to be a contrast to the smooth, tender, savory rillettes, but sometimes contradiction doesn’t really enhance things. I took them out and nibbled them by themselves. (Had to drink a lot of water after each nibble). Meat pate is a little different from liver pate and a little similar to spam. It is not at all bitter, a little crumblier than spam, and far tastier. I’m getting hungry… For me pate is ranked right up there with marinated cha lua and a real brown crispy cha gio. I never grow tired of them. I even had rice mixed with pate. Mudpie, once muttered “… gross pate…”, also agreed that the sandwich was good.

It’s Crepes Cafe, so how’s the crepe? Looks big and fantastic. Not to mention a really good salad tuft. I usually cringe every time I fork in my mouth some leafy bundle dripping with some sour salad dressing, but this time I didn’t. I finished every leaf and twig. It was creamy and gentle. Next I cut the crepe, folded each half so that they covered the embarrassingly exposed chicken cuts, and forked in. The chicken was tender, but not flavorful enough to excite the crepe. It was good. It satisfied every requirement of a standard crepe. Was it memorably good? I’m not sure. Maybe the lack of a cold, wet, wintry Seattle night makes it less desirable than my first steamy encounter outside the WSCTC. I’m a wanderer, I like wind and rain in my food. (A little butter might do just as well.) Was it a filling lunch? You bet. Even the young lady at the counter said so. We couldn’t go for dessert.

Would I come here again given the chance? Yes, if it’s just for an escape from the busy life. The air of this place is French. Bring your laptop here, or a newspaper. Who knows, you may even find your soulmate under one of those parasols. It’s casual and relaxing.

…Maybe not so relaxing for the chef. Those pancakes were being made right behind the counter, isn’t that neat? For such a quiet emollient lunch hideout, I was hoping they didn’t have a website, but here it is. Can you ever escape the internet these days?

Address: Crepes Cafe
1195 Merrill Street (at the corner of Oak Grove Ave)
Menlo Park, CA 94025
(650) 473-0506