Fabio and I met up yesterday for we had both been craving pancakes for some time now. Pancakes were sounding real nice right about then given I was manically running around the city trying to photograph as much as I could before it (inevitably) rained on me. I say inevitably because every time I have gone out to shoot for this one project (at least 3 times) it ended with rain. And like clockwork, it rained. At least it was at the end of my shoot.
For pancakes it was decided we would go to Mitzi’s on College because they have the best pancakes. We got there, went in and it was rather empty, not too odd given it was a Tuesday afternoon. Then the waitress told us that they were closing. Damn it all. Hungry, rain-soaked and craving pancakes we set off along College. I decided that crepes were the next best thing. And wouldn’t you know it, we were only a few blocks away from I Feel Like Crepe. Almost half a year later, but I finally got to go there!
Honestly, it was nothing outstanding. The place was pretty much deserted so the service was fast. It was also rather dark in there, not so great for the table-top food photography. The crepe I ordered had mixed berries and maple syrup and crushed hazelnuts in it. It was delicious and reasonably priced, it went well with the Monte Cristo coffee I ordered (I was curious about it since in Shrek 2 when the fairy godmother orders one). As I was cutting off a piece, having started at the wide end (it was folded like a triangle), some blueberries popped out the narrow-end opening. I burst out laughing, it was as if my crepe had pooped out blueberries.
One thing that caught my attention (and the little feminist inside of me’s attention): the menu. The savoury crepes (meats, cheeses, veggies etc…) all had male names while the sweet crepes (fruit, nutella, ice cream etc…) all had female names. Some mild and very weird sexism at hand? Why would you give crepes people names anyways?!