Traveling down Union Street, through the heart of the sprawling industrial section of West Springfield, an oasis appears on the horizon. Amid the landscape of parking lots and deteriorating buildings, Crepes Tea House is a spot of color: a small, unassuming building in the shadow of a great abandoned industrial complex. A backlit sign affixed to the building asks cheekily, “Who gives a crepe!?”
It’s a curiosity, certainly, but speaks to the unpretentious nature of the place. The people that operate this Slavic restaurant seem unconcerned with food industry trends in the area — and it seems to be working for them. In the six years the eatery has been open, co-owner Art Ribinskas has expanded, opening a second location in Enfield and getting a food truck.
It’s Monday night and as I enter the plain red brick building, hand-painted to resemble stonework, I notice a realistic painting of a tree marking the entrance. The interior space is impeccably clean and well thought out. Windows reach nearly from floor to ceiling, encircling the dining area and creating a sunny, uplifting atmosphere for a Sunday brunch or a working lunch. At one side of the restaurant are several low, gleaming red tables with brown faux-leather couches on either side. Each one could comfortably seat three lounging people with plenty of elbow room. On the other side is a well-lit dining area with tables and a baby grand piano. The walls are red brick and cinder block, covered partially with textured yellow stucco. The heart of the restaurant is a large central bar with seating on both sides. It’s adorned with Russian nesting dolls, elaborate Russian tea samovars, and fresh spring flowers. Above the bar, two large TVs loop Russian music videos — It’s over-the-top sexy, pop culture materialism and brash consumerism at its strangest. Clothing, when it’s worn, is usually minimal and expensive looking. Opened button-down shirts, Gucci shades, and mini skirts are in vogue. I could watch it all day.
My lovely partner, Emma, and I sit at one of the tables, poring over the elaborate and lengthy food and loose-leaf tea menus. She thoughtfully selects the ginger peach tea, a bright, refreshing cup the color of its namesake, while I order the Witch Blend, a dark herbal potion of hibiscus, blackberry leaves, orange peel, apples, and sunflower petals. The hibiscus turns the tea a deep red as I stir it. It tastes sweet and floral, with hints of citrus. The teas were $2.85 each. A plate of sirniki ($8.90), a type of farm cheese pancake, arrives at the table. They’re slightly crunchy on the outside and soft and sweet in the middle. They’re paired perfectly with sour cream.
The restaurant offers a variety of eastern European-style comfort dishes, and though I’ve eaten here more times than I can count, I must admit that I’ve never tried any of them. The allure of the build-your-own-crepe menu is too great. One could spend a lifetime assembling different crepes from the endless combinations of ingredients.
Tonight, I choose something more conventional: the salmon and white garlic sauce crepe ($9.25). My vegetarian companion combines tomatoes, asparagus, olives, broccoli, and avocado with a spring veggie sauce, in a warm savory, buttery wrapper ($8.25). With my appetite sufficiently whetted by the sirniki, I eagerly slice off the end of the little roll, releasing a puff of steam and an aroma I can only describe as mouth-watering. The first bite is heaven. The salmon is cooked to perfection, buttery and flaky. The sauce is zesty and full-bodied. The meal is hearty and filling, and I feel like I couldn’t eat another bite, but the picture of the sweet crepe on the menu calls to us.
For dessert, we decide to split a sweet crepe stuffed with Nutella and fresh strawberries, drizzled with warm chocolate, topped with whipped cream and walnuts, and dusted lightly with powdered sugar. What arrives at the table is a work of art and it’s almost a shame to eat it — almost. As we plunge our forks into the dessert, I’m struck by the versatility of this marvelous little pancake. It’s rich and sweet and seems to melt in my mouth. As we sop up the remaining chocolate and whipped cream with the spongy scraps of the crepe, I feel like I couldn’t possibly eat another bite. Well… maybe just one more.•
Contact Peter Vancini at pvancini@valleyadvocate.com.
