This is about about crêpes and muffins of the stud variety. I’m warning you, I did just finish a chocolate crêpe that was floating in Grand Marnier.
If you live in Paris (or visit) and are female, stick around; you’ll be glad you did.
I’ve been living here for a year and a half, walking by the cute little crêperie across the street almost daily, and thinking I’d go in one of these days. Creposuk (phonetic spelling of crêpe au sucre) looks more like it belongs in Austin or Santa Cruz or some such artsy, hippie dippy place rather than Paris. Don’t you think?
The kids are on vacation and I needed to get them out of the house, so I marched them over to the BHV (a department store). They lurked patiently while I looked at the poster-hanging hardware and stationery and so on, so I decided to reward them with a crêpe. (Good excuse, right?) Vincent doesn’t do crêpes. Chick food.
There were only a couple of customers, and at the back of the little place, three tall, dark, handsome, athletic young men were standing around talking. I did eventually look at the menu, which is extensive for a crêperie. About 40 different sweet and savory crêpes, all quite substantial and decadent.
Handsome number one came over to take our order and, while we were waiting, I flipped the laminated menu over. It was covered with photos of numbers one through three in what looked like Chippendale’s outfits, jumping over hurdles. The Horse Man Team. I love incongruity.
Yes, these three brothers (Matthieu, Julien and Guillaume) started off doing an equestrian show without shirts or horses and now they’ve gone into the crêpe business.
It turns out handsome number one was Matthieu (below). It was he who served my gooey chocolate crêpe, poured Grand Marnier onto it out of a little silver pitcher, and lit it on fire.
Ladies, that’s Creposuk, 27 rue Galande, in the 5th. Métro: Maubert-Mutualité.
Enjoy. Oh, and the crêpes are good too.