Food for thought: We are all crêpes


Hannah Agpoon

Graphic by Hannah Agpoon.

Gabby Hernandez, Contributing Writer

Recently, I have been having a bit of a quarter-life crisis. For much of my life, I was comfortable with the fact that 200 years from now there will probably be no one that remembers the current me as I exist in this moment. For some strange reason, I am no longer comfortable with that. I blame food. You see, it was while eating the S&B community editor’s delicious and internationally-worshiped crêpes that my thoughts about the human condition shifted.

With his cup of batter in one hand and fully set plate in another, Jandry poured a perfectly circular sheet of batter onto the hot pan on the stove. There was no splash. There was no deformity. The grace of a Winter Olympics ice skater and precision of a Summer Olympics archer were present within him as he flipped the crêpe over. It landed perfectly onto the pan.

The crêpe held a slightly golden hue once it was fully cooked. In one fluid motion, the chef spread a smooth dark chocolate filling over its surface and quickly folded it in half. Layer one was complete.

Two more crêpes were prepared in this manner. They were laid on top of each other like Lincoln Logs. An overhead view easily revealed the sophisticated three-quarters full, Pac-Man-esque stack of crêpes. The editor-in-chef then spread another layer of dark chocolate filling onto the top-most crêpe. The finishing touches — a slight application of powdered sugar and a strawberry cut into the shape of a rose — completed this dish with a refinement never before seen in the world of crêpes.

I was excited to dig into this masterpiece of a dish, but it almost felt disrespectful to cut off the first piece. “Who am I, a mere mortal, to consume this gift from the gods?” I thought. Nevertheless, I ate.

Rich. Those crêpes were mindblowingly rich. The strikingly sweet strawberry was the perfect fruit to compliment such a powerful flavor. Together, the dark chocolate and strawberry ruled this dish with an iron fist. As a vessel, the crêpe perfectly supported these two loud flavors with a subtle and sturdy flavor of its own.

The more I ate, the more I thought. I felt strongly for these crêpes. Would I remember them ten days from now? Ten years from now? Certainly not. I realized that on a larger scale, we are all crêpes — though legendary, we are ultimately lost to time. In many ways, that is terrifying. In other ways, that is freeing.

I ate some more. I thought some more. The essence of humanity, as it appeared to me as I drifted off into a crêpe-induced slumber, lies in our ability to feel so much. We are able to perceive, create, absorb and theorize. The things we perceive, create, absorb and theorize about, then, have the power to induce so many subsequent thoughts, feelings and understandings. I think that is beautiful. Scary-beautiful.