I want to live in an America where crêpes are a national food. Where homemade batters are spread paperthin across specialty irons and filled with exotic international spreads like Nutella or funny names for ham like prosciutto. Where I can stumble my way through a Frenchbistro vocabulary and mentally rehearse how to request a “Crayp avek Pro-shoo-tow et Mee-yal Sow-vache.”
I want to crack open a bottle of Mexican mineral water — Topo Chico, a miracle hangover cure — purchased at a reasonable price thanks to the job-exporting, BIGPHARMAsounding, B.J. Clinton-negotiated NAFTA agreement.
I want to share this multi-ethnic dining experience with my wife, in a small town like Carencro, in a gorgeously renovated bank of the Gilded Age that stands alone among squat middle-income homes. I will stir imported sugar into my cup of Latin American bean juice and day dream about a guy named “Bugsy” dashing out of the bank-cumcafé with a taut burlap sack sporting a dollar sign on it. Bugsy’s parents brought him from Palermo, Sicily in 1915, booking it from Ellis Island to Carencro following an argument with a landlord who hates Italians. Bugsy is the American dream.
Friends, all of these things are possible at Beau Bassin Café — where the Nutella is rich, the crêpes are formidable and the children enjoy granitas and gelato when it’s hot out.
Pro Tip — Unless you were born in The Marais or did your gap-year abroad chasing French men and stale baguettes, you will never, ever say “crêpe” correctly.
Beau Bassin Cafe is located at 203 E. Saint Peter St. in Carencro.