This was before I ever went to France, or lived in Belgium, where crèpes, while perhaps not "everyday" are certainly no big deal. The idea of living in Europe wasn't even a gleam in my eye. I needed some extra money and Hediye and Alan, Zola's owners, were kind enough to take me on.
I learned to make crèpes on two large hot crèpe-griddles with a wooden flipper, and I've never looked back.
There's still a place in my heart for the thicker-waisted, rib-sticking American pancake. But it's the thinner, European kissing-cousin version I turn to time after time.
All of which to say: I have discovered, accidentally, a way to improve the recipe.
I swear there is nothing better on a wet autumn day.