Object of desire

BATTER spills across an expanse of hot iron like the tide washing over a beach. A \o7rozelle\f7 spreads it, the T-shaped wooden tool making a wide arc and turn, into a circle. The edges move into a fine lace filigree, the wide interior cooks up the color and texture of muslin. A spatula flips the crepe on its back, where it pauses briefly before it's done, coming to rest on a plate, a paper-thin picture of the sun ready for whatever awaits it. A handful of grated Gruyere, a rain of sugar, your hunger.

A crepe is not so much a recipe as a pan and a state of mind.

There's an economy of movement and coordination of design -- a swirl of batter, a tilt of the pan -- that's beautiful, whether the crepes are coming off the pans of the street vendors in Paris, or the \o7creperies\f7 in Brittany or Santa Monica, or the one on the stove top of your own kitchen. The crepe's beauty is in its utter simplicity, both in composition and in consumption; and though it looks difficult, it's actually much easier to make than you think.

And now is the perfect time to appreciate -- and practice -- the simple art of the crepe. You may not know it, but it's high crepe season.

Last Friday was Candlemas, or Chandeleur in French, a holiday that's traditionally a day to make crepes; the crepe-making continues throughout the month before Lent and Mardi Gras, the last day before it. In England and in this country, many churches celebrate this day, also called Shrove Tuesday, with a pancake supper. In golden stacks, shaped like the sun they can symbolize, crepes celebrate the harvest, good fortune and wealth.

"You put a coin, it's supposed to be gold, in your hand when you flip the crepe," remembers chef Alain Giraud, who was born in Paris and lived in France for many years before coming to Los Angeles, where he was chef at Lavande and then Bastide. "Only the first crepe; it's good luck."

It's also a way to use up all the eggs and milk and butter in your refrigerator before Lent -- eggs were not to be eaten again until Easter. Made from the simplest of ingredients and filled with whatever was on hand, crepes originated as street food for laborers in the sea-swept landscape of Brittany, in northwestern France. There the streets were filled with workers and farmers, townsfolk and -- later -- tourists and locals who would flock to the crepe stands and \o7creperies\f7 for a quick meal. Filled with a sausage or spread with ham and cheese, crepes formed easy rustic repasts, simple and delicious fare that could be eaten easily, without utensils.