I used to love crêpes. I use to love crêperies. Everybody did in the seventies.

We went to crêperies on dates. Crêperies had checkered tablecloths. Crêperies had candles in wine bottles. And most importantly, in those days, creperies had low prices. Two could go to a crêpe restaurant and have soup, main course crêpes, share a dessert crêpe and a half liter of wine and get out for under $50.

We made Crêpes Suzette at home and gave the guests that French style look of smug pride when they gasped at the flames and then applauded. We gave avocado green crêpe pans at wedding showers so that, sometime in the future, the newlyweds would have something to keep the waffle iron and the fondue set company at the very back of the shelf under the kitchen sink. We were hated by our children because we told them wafer-thin crêpes were better for them than chunky pancakes. So we dreamed of holidays in Brittany without the kids where, at seaside cafes, we would wash down our crêpes with cider.

There were crêpe restaurant chains and any city worth being printed in bold letters on a map had a Magic Pan franchise. Then, one day, things changed. Nobody wanted to eat crêpes anymore. The last full service Magic Pan outlet, in Paramus, NJ, closed its doors in 1989. The last of any crêperie I know of in Toronto, Le Papillon, changed its menu in 2010 and pushed crêpes way to the side to allow other dishes to be featured. The only crêpe maker left in Williams-Sonoma stores these days is an over-the-top, fancy-dan, electric one.

Now there have been attempts at reviving the crêperie (including Magic Pan) and, in 2010, one of the reviews I wrote on this blog was about a San Miguel de Allende restaurant on Hospicio called La Crêpe. In those days, La Crêpe was one of San Miguel’s most popular lunch spots and was ranked number 2 of 71 restaurants on Trip Advisor (today, by the way, there are 334 San Miguel restaurants on Trip Advisor).

I’m not sure why it closed…perhaps because the owners were more interested in their landscape design business…but, by 2014, La Crêpe was gone and, for a couple of years, San Miguel was without one of France’s great gifts to gastronomy.

Over in France, however, something else was happening. A Mexican woman was attending a school of baking in Dijon. And a French man was also attending a school of baking in Dijon. And they met. An they fell in love. And they went to Brittany and learned how to make the very best traditional crêpes. And they married. And they moved to Mexico and dreamed of owning a crêperie. And then the happy-ever-after part of the story began to become true.

There’s now a relatively new restaurant located on Insurgentes, just west of Hernandez Macias, and just a little bit out of the heart of San Miguel de Allende. It’s a small room with seating for ten and a workstation where almost everything is prepared. It’s simply but stylishly decorated in a blue white and red motif that has you ready to start humming La Marseillaise (and hoping Ingrid Bergman walks in). A mural of the Eiffel Tower covers the washroom door. Mademoiselle from Armentières plays on the sound system. And, in the background, a Mexican woman called Carolina and a French man called Max are working at twin crêpe pans. Behind them is the logo of their dream come true, La Crêpe du Chef.

Crêpes are one of the world’s easiest things to make and one of the world’s most difficult things to make well. Only the essential ingredients should be used: Flour, water, milk, eggs, salt and butter. Any variations can lead to crêpes of wrath so any variations should be left for the stuffing or topping. The crêpes must be cooked at an almost exact temperature for an exact amount of time. The result should be wafer thin but still fluffy with just the right hint of browning on the surface.

That is what I discovered, ordered and ate at La Crêpe du Chef.

But first a little history of crêpes. Their original home is in Brittany in the Northwest of France. The word crêpe is derived from the Latin crispa, meaning “curled”. And something that always seems incredibly important to French chefs, sweet crêpes must be made with wheat flour, savory crêpes must be made with buckwheat flour. The buckwheat is especially important these days because I’m starting to fear that the gluten-free population are beginning to overtake the gluten-imprisoned population and buckwheat flour is 100% gluten-free.

How can flour from wheat be gluten free you may be asking. I hope so because I’m about to tell you. Buckwheat is not wheat, not even a grain, not even a grass.

Buckwheat is a flowering plant in the same family as rhubarb. Maxence Hilaire and Carolina Burgos are such believers in buckwheat, they spend half a page of La Crêpe du Chef’s menu detailing its benefits.

I asked Max where his buckwheat flour or farine de sarrasin, as he calls it in French, comes from and was surprised when he answered “China” but not so surprised when he told me “that was the original country that the plant came from”.

A savory crêpe in France is called a galette and Max and Carolina have eight different galettes on their menu. All of them, of course, are made with sarrasin flour. All of them include mozzarella cheese. Most include ham. And some include egg, tomato, salad greens, chorizo, mushrooms or caramelized onions.

I chose the most traditional and simplest galette, the one La Crèpe du Chef calls the Clasica, the one with just ham and cheese.

At their workstation, La Crèpe du Chef has two of what are known in Brittany as billigs, gas-powered crêpe makers with cast iron tops that are a joy to watch a skilled crêpe maker work at.

I once had a harvest gold crèpe pan (it may still be under a sink somewhere) and I would try to exactly fill the top and not let anything spill over the sides. But my crepes would end up like Swiss cheese with more on the stove than the plates.

Carolina Burgos, on the other hand, is an artist and taking a ringside look at her pour, spread and fold is like watching a juggler. Carolina works the beechwood spreader like an orchestra conductor and the flat stainless knife like a fencer with an epée.

My Clasica was perfectly cooked with just a hint of browning and the stuffings were generous.

Crêpes are quite filling so a second crêpe is always a challenge. But with a little friendly persuasion from Max, I agreed to try the caramel, one of a long list of sweet or fruity crèpes from the Crepas Dulces section.

The use of wheat flour versus buckwheat flour makes a significant difference to the overall taste. I compare it to having a sandwich on white versus white rye bread. The flavor of a wheat flour crêpe gets out of the way to let what’s on it come through.

The genuine care, attention and attitude of Max Hilaire and Carolina Burgos also came through as I ate my crêpe sucrée. Sometimes words like these sound like repetitive rote but not when Max said, “Do you like it?” or when Carolina said, “I so hope you like it.”

It was a weekday when I was at La Crêpe du Chef so I didn’t have the opportunity to try out their weekend specialities. Next time I think I will go on a Saturday or Sunday when the crêperie might also have pan rustico with raisins and nuts, snail shaped brioche buns, pain au chocolate, or ficelle, a loaf stuffed with ham and cheese.

I think next time I might also take a grandchild or two because I can’t think of anything they might enjoy as much as a folded up crêpe stuffed with Nutella.

La Crêpe du Chef is located at Insurgentes 120C in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. The restaurant is open from 1:00 pm to 9:00 pm, every day but Monday.