Crepe Expectations

I have Paris on the brain.  Perhaps it's because I'm working on an Eiffel Tower art project for my living room.

This is one of my favorites.

Perhaps it's because breezy fall days make me want to walk along the Seine.

Don't you want to go to there?

Perhaps it's that, in perusing my photos for above-mentioned project, I spied the one I snapped of the warm, fresh crepe smeared with Nutella I ate while strolling along the Seine.

C'est si bon!

I shared with this guy.

Sadly, a trip to France is not on my immediate horizon.  Happily, one needn't go to Paris to eat crepes.  I grew up eating them. They're one of the very Cajun-French things my Mamaw used to make (along with beignets).  What I find truly amazing is that she used to make these for breakfast.  For her children.  All nine of them.  She was quite a woman. I wish I could have watched her slinging them around the kitchen.

We always had them with butter and syrup.  Sometimes peanut butter. I wonder if one Clara Sevin Cagnolatti would have liked Nutella?  I like to think so.

I haven't whipped out my cherished cast iron crepe pan in quite a while.  I think it might be time.  Maybe I'll wrap one up in parchment paper and go for a stroll along the Erie Canal.  It may be Syracuse, but that's no reason not to...

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