I had tentatively planned to get up before the crack of dawn, hop on a ferry & set sail for Bainbridge Island this morning.  Except, when I woke up at 3:30 am I just wasn’t really feelin’ it.  I go a lot by my gut instinct.  My gut hadn’t been telling me one thing or the other about a day on the island, so when I woke up still not having a clear sense of it being the right or wrong day to head West, I decided it couldn’t be The Day.  Onto Plan B.  Except, I didn’t have a Plan B, but I am always happy to make one up on the fly.

I was definitely in the mood to pick up where my crepe-fest left off a week ago. Enter my little black book of Seattle creperies & I was off to Ravenna in a flash.  I had absolutely no clue where Ravenna was, or, in fact, that it even existed.  Now I’ve been, I wish I’d had a clue earlier.  The Crepe Cafe, maybe not surprisingly, is all about crepes.  And I mean all.  Apart from a couple of salads, soup & a slice of quiche, there ain’t nothing but crepes on the menu.  They must have made an awful lot of crepes in their time then.  Here’s hoping that all that Creperie practice has made them really good at it.

A tiny place with only 9 small tables, 2 crepe griddles & 1 chef – this isn’t the place to come if you’re in a hurry.  There’s only so many crepes that 1 chef & his 2 griddles can churn out.  Other words of advice:

• Come early if you don’t want to wait.
• Come in pairs – most of the tables are for 2.  Great place for romancing or a one-on-one with a pal, but not the place for parties.  Unless you rent the whole place out.

The Fitzgerald: Sauteed mushrooms, bacon, scrambled eggs & cheddar cheese in a savory crepe topped with bechamel sauce – $13.

*Oooh!  Yes, please!!* 

My first mouthful of crepe absolutely knocked my socks off.  Well, it would have had I been wearing any.  The mushrooms were perfectly sauteed to release their fullest, wildest flavors.  Ditto on the bacon.  Oh, the bacon.  There were enough eggs in this thing to feed an army – I swear there must have been 6, it was so filling.  And then the whole thing was bathing in bechamel, albeit a very light one.  It might not look huge in the shot, but believe me, this thing floored me.  And that’s saying something.

The people who chose to share crepes between them had obviously been here before.  Come hungry, you will leave full.  And then some.

I had to have a not insignificant break before I could even think about what to have for my dessert crepe.  Which was a bit of a bummer, since that put me at the back ot the crepe queue; and that queue was substantial by the time I was finally ready to go head-to-head with crepe #2.

Lemon Zest: Fresh lemon juice, coarse sugar & butter.  Dusted with powdered sugar & topped with whipped cream – $9.

As Robin came towards me with the plate I murmured to myself, “Oh please tell me you did not squirt whipped cream all over my crepe.”  Alas, they did.  Crepes do not need to be smothered with whipped cream people.  Lemon crepes are *just fine* as they are.

It looked just like a crepe should, and given the awesomeness of crepe #1 I was salivating before Robin placed it in front of me.  Alas, that’s where my crepe heaven ended.

The crepe was fine, but the filling was not.  Lemon crepes should be tart, screaming their way all around your taste buds.  No such zing in this puppy.  And the whipped cream added nothing.  I was deeply disappointed.  It was also outrageously expensive for a simple Lemon crepe.  Outrageously.

I would absolutely go back to the Crepe Cafe.  Over & over.  I want to eat my way around their entire specials & savory crepes menu.  I’ll just never eat another lemon crepe there again.  I thoroughly recommend this place – the service is slow, but it is so worth the wait.  YUM.

As I left the Crepe Cafe I was still desperate for the missing lemon zing in my mouth.  So I hopped in the car & headed west – Honore Bakery was in striking distance!  I could hear the Lemon Meringue Tart calling my name.  Unfortunately, I forgot that there is a rather large body of water between Ravenna & North Ballard called Green Lake.  It took me some time to navigate around it, but I was not going to be deterred from my growing need for lemoniness.

Honore was busy.  When isn’t that place busy?  Oh, yeah.  When it’s closed.  I waited patiently for my turn, gazing longingly at the perfect Lemon Meringue Tarts idling in the display case.  Soon, one would be mine.  I could already taste it.

 Sat out on the sunny back patio, fork in hand, I had a very intimate few minutes – just my Tart and I.  It was a {very} beautiful thing, but it was over all too quickly.  My lemon craving satiated, I headed back east.  Honore never  lets me down.  Swoon.