I was all set to chat about the imminent arrival of spring produce but then I stepped outside, saw the ice on the sidewalk, felt the chill in the air and decided that I needed something warmer and heartier today than leeks and asparagus. Looking down at my old, red, wool scarf that I had picked up years ago at the department store la Samaritaine, I started to think about France, which immediately made me think of crepes. I fell in love with crepes on a cold, late December evening in Paris. Famished as well as jet-lagged, I roamed the 1st arrondissement in search of something warm, filling and quick to eat. On a sex shop-lined street near our rented apartment on Rue Saint Denise Impasse I spotted a stout, middle-aged man standing on a street corner, cooking paper thin pancakes on an oversized, portable hot plate. After flipping them once, he filled his crepes with fresh, sliced bananas, the chocolate-hazelnut spread Nutella, strawberry preserves or a combination of the three. He then rolled up …