Even the most loyal resident of a city can get tired of it sometimes. Lately, Paris has been on my mind – romantic accordion music, nameless red wine at a street-side café, effete, unwashed fops wearing scarves. Maybe it’s the springtime air full of the promise of new adventures. Maybe it’s having watched Ratatouille for the bazillionth time with my two year old. In any case, wistful ennui had settled in. Then I found the cure.

So what if Crepes & Crepes has been around a while and thus is hardly new. So what if the servers don’t deliver your food with a heaping side of condescension. When you open the menu you’ll find crepes in more varieties – and, frankly, crepes of better quality – than at 90% of the creperies in Paris. My wife and I were in the mood for something sweet. She ordered hers with Nutella and I ordered mine with fresh blueberries. Both were soft and rich, and all ingredients were fresh.

For a long moment afterwards as we enjoyed our French-press coffee, we felt secure in the knowledge that no one, anywhere in the world, had ever had a better crepe. In the end, that doesn’t say much for Paris. But it says a lot about Denver.