Creperie Ty Baron

Wandering around Brittany looking at trees, rocks & assorted Merlin memorabilia works up an appetite.  I was beginning to feel the familiar sensation of my stomach wrapping itself around my spine, as it usually does just before my body begins to digest itself.

Our eyes were beginning to get that glazed look that one gets just as they begin to consider cannibalism.

All right, enough of the sightseeing shit.  We needed food.  Preferably vast amounts of crepes, dripping with cheese & meat.

After driving around in what seemed like endless circles in the middle of freaking nowhere, we finally saw the sign.

We checked the clock on the dashboard.  It was only 6:50pm.  We’d have to wait 10 minutes.  No problem.  My body likely wouldn’t reach the advanced stages of auto digestion for at least a half an hour.

As soon as the clock flipped to 7pm, we were through the door.  The place was empty, just as one would expect it to be.  The hostess approached & asked Olivier & I if we had made a reservation.  We replied that we hadn’t & were instantly led to a dark corner in the very back of the restaurant, which we assumed was where the spontaneous people were made to eat.

We ordered a couple of crepes & a bottle of cidre.  Within just a few minutes, our young waiter brought our plates.

That’s when the horror began.

Olivier casually asked the waiter what was on the plate, just to confirm that it was correct.  When the waiter had a brief flash of doubt, he naturally jumped back to the kitchen to double check with the cook.

That was when we heard the shouting; the shrieking & the name calling.  Olivier & I stared at one another in helpless confusion as the verbal abuse echoed throughout the restaurant.

Seconds later, the waiter was quickly walking toward our table.  He smiled as he set the plates down in front of us before quickly disappearing into the kitchen again.

Olivier & I scanned the walls of the place as we ate.  Every inch of wall & ceiling was covered with old paintings & objects: plates, dolls, lamps, shoes & garden tools.  We seemed to be sitting in the middle of a rather dark, dusty & rusted antique museum.

We noticed a sign that informed us that taking pictures was not allowed inside the restaurant.  One possibility may have been so that the flash wouldn’t disturb other diners.  Obviously a camera flash is more annoying & offensive than the screams of an enraged crepe chef.

Of course, another reason could have been to keep physical evidence to a minimum.

The crepes were delicious.  The cidre was freaking awesome.  But, with the strange, dark decor & the screaming coming from the back, I began to have some flashbacks from the French horror movie Sheitan.

Including our desserts, Olivier & I were inside Creperie Ty Baron for less than one hour.  They ushered us in & out as quickly as humanly possible.  I can’t recall ever having a meal any faster than that in a place that didn’t have a drive-up window attached to it.

The food was worth it – they were without a doubt the best crepes that we had during the time that we spent in Brittany.

We made our way back outside to the light of day.  The doom & gloom of the restaurant’s interior seemed far away compared to the quaint exterior of the place.

I just hope that the waiter made it out alive.

[tags]restaurants, crepes, creperie, France, Brittany, cidre, creperie ty baron, food; French[/tags]