The Proprietress, Part Two // Crêpes Babette
Welcome back to Babette’s. How was the traffic? I can get you a paper bag if you’re ready to stop hyperventilating. The kitchen is still preparing the lunch special, so settle in, relax.
You wanted to hear the rest of the story, right?
We left Babette in an abandoned lot next to a dilapidated old building. She’d been chased down a highway and a winding country road by a ravenous, tentacled shadow creature. When it cornered her in this abandoned parking lot, she knew she had no choice but to face it down.
All noise had stopped when she got out of her car. There was no breeze now to stir the leaves of early spring. No song was heard from the frogs or the crickets. Even the eerie, distorted train noises that had chased her down here were fading away. She could sense the macerating hunger that loomed in the shadows, but it was holding still. Like it was waiting for something.
She decided to take the fact that it hadn’t swallowed her up yet as a good sign.
“Now you listen here!” Babette called. Fear made her voice sound funny and high pitched. “If you’re so damn hungry, eat your dinner already!”
Winding her arm back (Babette used to play some softball) she pitched her dinner bag full of leftover food into the darkness. The white paper was crumpled, weighted down with fried beef and soft potato and shiny grease. Leaving Babette’s hand, it soared in a graceful arc into the unnatural darkness.
She waited, but it never hit the ground.
Out of that thick, choking silence, there suddenly came a sound of grumbling, and groaning. Then there was a thick, wet slurp, and a smack. Just as Babette had sensed the creature’s fathomless hunger, now she could feel the satisfaction of stuffing her empty mouth with warm, juicy protein, with melting fats and pillowy starches and savory salts. She felt the euphoria of ending her ceaseless suffering in one warm, perfect mouthful. All she had ever known of existence was hunger that clawed the gut like an angry beast and was never sated. Now, for the first time, she was nourished, comforted, euphoric. She felt bliss. In fact, she was a little sleepy, and wanted to take a nap.
The part of Babette that wasn’t busy empathizing with an otherworldly entity was scanning her surroundings. If one hair stood up on the back of her neck, she was running straight for the trees and praying they opened their arms to receive her. Suddenly, fifty or so lovesick frogs resumed their bellowing all at once. A chorale of crickets followed suit shortly after.
Babette looked up at an indigo sky dotted with the first pale stars of evening. A breeze swept down through the trees, stirring her earrings. Her car, parked behind her at a dramatic angle, made a plink noise. She was alone.
Then, behind her, there came an electric hum. The highway sign that Babette had earlier mistaken for the moon all of a sudden lit up like one, illuminating everything underneath it. All the lights in the abandoned building came on at once, and the big front windows revealed the interior of an antique diner, complete with mint green booths and pink checkered floor tiles. She had just about convinced herself that this was some fluke of the power grid when, from inside the diner, she heard music playing: c’mon-a my house, a-my house, I’m gonna give you candy. Bells chimed, and before her eyes the front door swung slowly open all by itself.
Just as she had felt the hunger of the pursuing dark, so she could feel the presence of the diner. It was a safe place. Or, not safe: protected. A refuge. A sanctuary.
And it was inviting her inside.
No need to look so scared. Obviously, she lived to tell the tale. Look, here she is with your lunch.
Today Babette is serving: The Crêpes Babette Lunch Special (original recipe link)
You’ve probably heard of Crêpes Suzette, but Crêpes Babette is creamier, has a stronger orange flavor, and uses less butter. I like to mix a dash of Grand Marnier and cinnamon into the batter along with the vanilla extract, then fry the crêpes in butter with some orange zest until the edges are crispy. The orange sauce is the orange version of sandesfjordmor, a Norwegian lemon cream sauce for fish. You just put orange juice and a splash of Grand Marnier in a pan with a little honey and butter, reduce it on low heat, then add some half & half or light cream and orange zest and reduce it again. The sauce is light and bright, velvety without being heavy. The crepes are folded into quarters and arranged in a line on the plate, then the orange sauce is poured generously over top. I dust with cinnamon and serve with orange slices and blueberries when available.
Thanks for ordering the lunch special.
Don't forget to take a mint from the dish by the register on your way out. Printed inside the wrapper is a secret message from the kitchen.
Cut your muffins in half so you can toast and butter them like bread. Cut your cupcakes in half and smash them back together with the frosting in the middle.