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Zinny's ode on a Grecian crepe takes an Algerian twist.

Tuesday Aug 14, 2007.     By Zinny Fandel

Food Feed

I spent 10 days with my sister in Greece last month, and it was as lovely and breathtaking as you'd expect it to be. What I didn't expect was the intense craving I had upon my return. Not for dolmades, which join avocados and spicy tuna hand rolls on my list of the five foods I'd eat if I could only eat five foods for eternity, but for an unexpected Greek staple: the crepe.

No joke, every street on every island we visited seemed to have a place dishing made-to-order crepes, stuffed with feta and tomatoes and olives and green pepper, folded to one-fourth its size and slid into paper for on-the-go snacking. Considering that cappuccinos cost as much as $9 a pop, these $3 crepes became our afternoon staple, and when I got back to Chicago I searched for crepes in town and researched crepe pans online.

So it was with a secret hope that I slipped Icosium Kafe in the email I sent to Merle listing our BYOB options for dinner on Monday. When he told me he'd love to rechannel Paris via Icosium, I began dreaming about my own European moment.

First daydream: the wine. I did Greece in true Zinny fashion, exploring many of the local options via Santorini's 13 wineries. I also took a cooking class that featured a pretty in-depth back history of local agriculture and grapes. I took a liking to the Assyrtiko grape, but also spent a lot of time guzzling rose in the 100-degree heat.

I popped by Andersonville Wine and Spirits for a bottle, and was overwhelmed by its sale items, which included a half-price bottle of Chalk Hill Sauvignon Blanc that was practically screaming my name. In the end, Grecian habit won out, and I opted for a rose from its large collection of chilled wines. The Domaine Fondreche L'Instant Rose, a pale pink $10.99 bottle, comes from Cotes du Ventoux, part of the Rhone wine region of Southern France, whose reds and roses usually contain two of my favorite grapes: Grenache and Syrah.

Armed with the booze, I headed across the street to "un café algerois," as the Algerian creperie dubs itself. I was surprised to find that its lush décor had all but done away with any hints of a diner, the space's previous inhabitant. Bold orangey-red booths ran along the front window, and heavy, dark wood chairs outfitted the rest of the space. Tapestries and mirrors livened the walls, and the ordinarily basement-like ceiling tiles became one of its best features: painted a rich eggplant, with a hopscotch of tiles covered in fabric.

I took it all in as I waited for Merle, who got detained for ages over some bizarre ADT malfunction at the office. He had to keep testing the alarm, which was giving him a headache. I was getting a headache of my own from not eating, so I started pouring over the menu while I cracked open the wine. When Merle arrived we dove into the bottle, hoping the pink stuff would host some medicinal properties. Maybe I was still daydreaming, but the utterly crisp and dry wine made everything, headache included, seem a little better.

Delightfully enough, Icosium didn't need the intox bump. The restaurant is charming, and not just because it made me think of somewhere else. On the contrary, I was very present in every brown sugary bite. But the sweet stuff came later.

The multi-ingredient savory crepes cost just $8.50, which includes a cup of utterly satisfying, somewhat-creamy vegetable soup. Crepes fly from the kitchen to your table, so you no sooner start salivating and your order arrives. Ingredients are fresh and in no short supply: I went with the Carthage, with feta, bell peppers, tomatoes, fresh basil, walnuts, scallions and organic greens. The thing exploded with more walnuts than most nut-filled cookies do, sandwiched between a perfectly spongy layering.

It looked huge but I managed to chip away at it quite impressively, as did Merle, who went with the Icosium crepe, whose signature ingredients included pine nuts, goat cheese, caramelized onions and baby spinach. We went for broke with the Crepe Yussef, dressed with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, raisins and vanilla ice cream. It also came studded with a dainty pink paper umbrella, the kind that belongs in those fruity cocktails I reserve for vacation tippling. My crepe may not have been a pina colada, but it was pretty darn intoxicating, as was our $26 bill; next time I need a get-out-of-Dodge fix, I won't be surprised if I find myself in Andersonville, working my way through my latest pink umbrella obsession.

Zinny Fandel's tales of living the (mostly) BYOB life are intended to be attempted at home and in the community, preferably at BYOB restaurants. If you know of a BYOB spot she simply must tipple at, let her know.