La creme de la crepe

On the surface, there is absolutely nothing majestic about La Petite Creperie. The taxicab-yellow canopy that drapes over the silver cart has been tarnished by months of rain, snow and the occasional bird. The cart is wedged in place by an ominous rock that fits underneath one of the rusting, tricycle-sized wheels, and it's tucked away in a veritable no-man's-land outside Gimbel Gymnasium. Fine, but these physical obstacles mean little when you're the king of the Penn food cart scene, when you revitalize a snooty European delicacy and when you're swarmed by hundreds of customers every day. Since its inception only two years ago, La Petite Creperie has become both a local and citywide sensation. The cart has been featured in Philadelphia Magazine's "Best of Philadelphia" issue for each of the past two years. The crepes are legendary on Penn's campus, and the stand packs half-hour long waits from opening at 11 a.m. to closing at 8:30 p.m. So what's the deal? Why all the attention? Try this: "Escape the ordinary." It's the phrase that's written on every single crepe box, explains Andreas Andoniadies, the owner of the cart. "Nobody else does what we do. That's why I started this business. People come out of curiosity." On a typical day, Andoniadies can be found standing directly in the middle of the compact rectangular stand in his green-collared shirt, taking orders and beckoning customers to pick up their steaming meals. He is flanked by two men who fry the savory "French-style" pancake, and one chef who prepares the assorted ingredients for their future home. "We produce so much food in so little space. It's amazing," Andoniadies says. Prior to creating this exotic station, Andoniadies owned three different businesses, including the pizza stand at the food court in the basement of the old Houston Hall. When renovations began on the student union two years ago, he lost his station and was left with two choices. "I could have started another pizza or Chinese food stand, but there were so many of them. So I decided to do something completely different," he says. To fully appreciate the lunchtime meal he provides, it's necessary to begin when some students are first going to sleep. The average day for Andoniadies starts at 5 a.m., when he and his team begin to prepare the goods. The fruits, vegetables and meats run through the gauntlet of cleanliness. The crepe batter is molded from scratch each day. It's this, his crack-of-dawn ritual, to which Andoniadies credits the quality of his product. "The key to success is freshness," Andoniadies says. "Every day, all of the ingredients have to be fresh. That is what makes the crepes so tasty." The success certainly is not reflective of the location. La Petite Creperie is situated on 37th and Walnut streets, sandwiched between what Andoniadies calls his worst enemies: a parking garage and Gimbel Gym. Still, the daunting line that forms in front of the cart each day is visible from the street. And usually, especially on sunny days, a long wait is hardly a deterrent. "A true sign of our success is our location," Andoniadies says. "People have to walk a couple of blocks just to get here, and they still come." And walk they do. "When I need a break from fast food, I'll go over to the crepe stand no matter where I'm headed next," College freshman Miriam Bloom says. "It's completely worth it." Not that making a crepe is an arduous task. In fact, it takes just two minutes to make the average one with assorted fillings. But customers lounge patiently in the cart's shadow for up to an hour at times for an overstuffed pastry. "If I have an hour to kill between classes, I bring some work and come here for lunch," College sophomore Ariel Amdur says. Just don't expect the neighbors to share in the glory. All of the praise that La Petite Creperie receives has begun to wear on some of the other food carts in the region. In some cases, the competing cart owners express resentment toward the popularity of Andoniadies' enterprise. Even as they helplessly watch their lines dwindle in comparison to that of the crepe cart, most rival owners maintain that they're no less revered. Take, for example, the administrator of the Quaker Shaker -- a stand devoted to traditional grilled entrees -- who had only this to say when asked about La Petite Creperie: "What makes you think that he does any better business than I do?" One hidden secret of the super-stand is that the food is surprisingly healthy. In creating the batter for the crepes, Andoniadies and his staff do not use sugar at all. In addition, three crepes are made per egg used. The remainder of the ingredients -- butter, natural flour, and water -- are what help make the crepe "very light and crispy," Andoniadies says. "The appearance of being healthy and different has really contributed to its appeal," second-year Wharton graduate student Emily Cohen says. Regardless of the reasons, La Petite Creperie remains the standard by which all other food carts are measured at Penn. Andoniadies beams as he shows off his newspaper clippings that shroud the counter in front of the cash register and proclaim him "Best Vendor in the City." "It could have been a huge success or a huge failure," he says. "We were successful from day one."

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