Delicious, Filling Crepes Bonaparte. Now, about the Name and Tomatoes…



Third
entry in our series where we promise to review, for better or worse,
every “high-end” roach coach that visits the Weekly's world
headquarters. Calbi Tacos-or-other visits us next Monday–when will YOUR mobile food truck come?
Inquire with Jessica Ford at je****@oc******.com
!

I had a conversation with someone–was it Spencer?–talking about the relative scarcity of crepes in Orange County. Or maybe I don't see them much in my usual galaxy of holes-in-the-wall. Anyhoo, I was skeptical about Crepes Bonaparte when I first heard of it because I figured such a dainty dish wouldn't work in a truck setting.

Oh, I was wrong–gloriously wrong.

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The staff is oh-so-cute-and-chipper with their berets, black-and-white uniforms, and so is the truck–chanson and Edith Piaf on the tinny speakers, a Rollie Fingers mustache on the hood of the truck, an immaculately kept dining counter. Too good to believe, but they produce and produce beautiful crepes again and again, always with a smile.

When they visited the Weekly's world headquarters, I ordered a savory and a sweet. The caprese crepe tastes just like the salad at its finest–velvety mozzarella, strong basil that stays with your burps for hours, springy chicken, with its wheat wrapping subtle and smooth. It was a delicious, fat wrap, and not too expensive. Much better, however, was their PCH–peanut butter, Nutella, and honey. I noted in my dismissing review of Louks that you can put Nutella on anything and it'll taste great, but Bonaparte's PCH crepe used the nutella judiciously, so that the thin layer of peanut butter still maintained a distinct flavor, with the honey drizzled over the crepe adding the final, sweet flavor.

Crepes Bonaparte was so delicious, I have already patronized it again–or, rather, my chica. She also found it wonderful. I just have two problems with the truck, and tiny ones at that. First, the name: why name yourself after the Little Emperor, garçons? Bonaparte was a loser; ustedes, not. Name yourself after a true Gallic victor–de Gaulle, maybe? Hugo? Zizou?

Also? The tomatoes in my caprese crepe were stale and reminded me why I used to hate tomatoes before discovering the wonders of a truly fresh tomato, especially of the heirloom variety. Dump those tomatoes, get some from the farmer's market ustedes service every Thursday, and see you soon. I agree with Dave: EAT HERE.

Follow Crepes Bonaparte at–where else?–www.crepesbonaparte.com

*I say this as someone who likes Kogi but thinks its fans are as foolishly obsessive as Glee fans…

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