There’s just some posts that are more difficult to write than others…especially ones where the food was not all that inspiring.  Procrastination is not always indicative of average food though.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, the words just don’t flow like they do most of the time.  Just so you know, I am writing this particular post a) because I ate the food today and b) because I am procrastainating on another post that just ain’t flowin’.

 Today I ended up eating alone, which I haven’t done in forever.  I had breakfasts scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, but my week went sideways and so I could only go out to play one day and not both.  I asked my Sunday Brunch Buddies if we could re-schedule, & then moved Saturday’s gal-pal to Sunday.  Late on Saturday said gal-pal let me know she wouldn’t be coming for breakfast.  So I suddenly went from 2 to 0 & ended up chowing down on my tod.  Not that I have any issues with that, whatsoever.  That is, after all, how this whole Big Breakfast Advenutre started.  I never imagined that after a few months I’d have people lining up to go nosh breakfast with me.  However, despite being quite happy to toddle off alone for the latest installment of my crepe-fest, I am bummed that I didn’t get to hang with the adorable Martina & her Tardy Husband, who, if you recall, moved stateside just a few months.  We had a very amusing & memorable brunch up on Queen Anne to celebrate his arrival.  I am eager to hear the review of the first 3 months of his life on this side of the pond.  Now I will just have to wait.  Ah well.  You know how the saying goes: “Don’t make someone a priority when they only see you as an option.”

Who knew that the dingiest, most run-down looking building on the street could actually be disguising a {totally} delightful little restaurant once you’d made it through the door?  611 Supreme – you’d never want to go in unless you knew how adorable it was behind those closed doors.

I was 2nd in the door as the clock struck 9 am, but it started to fill {right} up as soon as I had sat down.  I can’t imagine that ever being a bad sign.  I could hear French hurtling back and forth between people in the kitchen.  I can’t imagine that ever being a bad sign, either.

I had sat outside in my car & watched the staff arrive about 2 minutes prior to opening, so I am guessing their get-up-and-go had not quite gotten up yet.   They clearly needed some java.  The “Open” light needed some juice.  Add to that…it was a little chilly inside & there was no music, and the whole atmosphere felt rather cold.  Whether that is normal, or whether that is because everyone overslept today, I may never know.  Thanks to the massive vase of spectacular flowers in the entry way – deep pink, white, lush green – at least one corner of the dimly-lit, dozey space was exuding fresh, vibrant life.

Reading the {very French-style} menu got me all twitterpated.  Totally twitterpated.  And there they were – nestled quietly between two other items on the menu: Baked Eggs.  Swoon.  Even my heart beat a little faster when I read the words.  Just a little.

As the minutes ticked by though, the enthusiasm did start to wane, just a wee bit.  What turned into a 43 minute wait was a bit of a stretch for one cup of herbal tea.  I was wishing I’d brought my laptop.  Or a book.  I wonder if the guy next to me came prepared with his book because he just “knew”?  So there I sat, watching everyone else’s food come rollin’ on out.  Hey, hang on.  Wasn’t I 2nd in the door?  Huh.

Gratin Aux Oeufs (Baked Eggs): 2 eggs baked with gruyere, ham & cream, served with mixed greens – $12.  The salad was a light, slightly tangy, barely-there dressing on a pile of fresh, interesting greenery.  The Baked Eggs, {very} unfortunately were a disappointment, mainly because the eggs were overcooked.  By quite a margin.  I had dreamed about a dish of sizzling, ooey-gooey, creamy, melty gloriousness.  Sadly, that wasn’t what I got.

Hey it tasted good – especially all that gruyere, which they had so not scrimped on – but the ooey-gooey-ness that just floats my boat about Baked Eggs, had been baked right out of it.  The baguette was also not the greatest baguette in the world, which, given all the French chatter going on behind the kitchen door, really surprised me.  May I respectfully suggest that you change your baguette supplier?  Call up Grand Central Bakery – they’ll help you out.  The final disappointment was that a stone’s throw away at Cafe Presse the Baked Eggs are just $7.  And are phenomenal.

And so onto the real reason that I had beaten a path to 611 Supreme’s door: Crepes.  They’re famous for ’em.  The menu is littered with them.  A whole litany for breakfast & then for lunch a whole bunch of new crepe-y creations joins the throng.  I would’ve had two crepes, only those darned Baked Eggs did the Dance of the Seven Veils & I was powerless to stop myself ordering them.  Of course, now I know what I know, I wish I’d been more steadfast & resisted their creamy, promises-of-ooey-gooey charms.

I didn’t even need to look at the breakfast crepe choices to know what I was going to have: Le Citron – crepe filled with lemon juice & granulated sugar, garnished with powdered sugar, lemon zest ($3.75)

The crepe did not disappoint.  In the slightest.  I wish they hadn’t dumped a bag of powdered sugar on the top though.  Totally too sweet & totally unnecessary, but the crepe itself just rocked.  Next time I will ask them to hold the powdered sugar.  Yes, there will be a next time.  I need to go back and try any number of their other crepes.  Maybe I’ll go one lunchtime.  Maybe I’ll go back for breakfast.  But this time, you can be sure that I will resist those veils!  If you go for breakfast, I suggest getting there at 9 am sharp.  I also suggest, if you take children with you, that you have a secret stash of Goldfish up your sleeve in case you wind up waiting 43 minutes too.

611 Supreme – don’t be put off by the outside.  Crepe-y charms {definitely} await you on the inside.