Sourdough Crepes: A Tangy Twist on a Classic Treat

I didn’t mean to become a sourdough person.

You know the type. The ones who casually say things like “my starter’s feeling sluggish today” as if it’s a pet with emotional needs. I laughed at those people. Judged them quietly. Ate my regular toast and moved on with my life.

And then one winter in Queens—cold, gray, the kind of week where the sky looks personally offended by your existence—I inherited a jar of sourdough starter from a neighbor.

She handed it to me like it was a baby.

“Feed it,” she said.
“Uh… okay?” I said, already panicking.

And that, my friend, is how sourdough crepes entered my life.

Not dramatically. Not romantically. More like… accidentally. As most good things do.

Why Sourdough Crepes Even Exist (A Ramble)

So here’s the thing nobody tells you about sourdough starter:
It multiplies. Aggressively.

You feed it. It grows. You feed it again. Suddenly you have discard. So much discard. Too much discard. Enough discard to question your life choices.

I tried pancakes. Fine. Bread? Overwhelming. Crackers? Burned them. Twice.

Then one morning—hungry, grumpy, low on groceries—I thought, What if I made crepes?

Regular crepes are already thin and delicate and slightly annoying. Why not add fermentation to the chaos?

I mixed some starter with eggs and milk and flour, didn’t measure particularly well (a theme), and poured it into a pan that may or may not have been too hot.

The first one stuck.
The second one tore.
The third one? Magic.

That’s when I realized sourdough crepes aren’t just a way to use discard. They’re their own thing. A little tangy. A little nutty. Slightly unpredictable. Basically my personality in breakfast form.

The Flavor Is… Different (In a Good Way)

Let’s get this out of the way:
If you want sweet, neutral, diner-style crepes—this might surprise you.

Sourdough crepes have opinions.

They pair stupidly well with both sweet and savory stuff. Which feels illegal. But delicious.

Jam? Yes.
Honey? Obviously.
Smoked salmon and crème fraîche? Don’t tempt me, I live in Queens, I will do it.
Leftover mushrooms and cheese at midnight? Absolutely.

These crepes don’t judge.

A Quick Confession About the Batter

I don’t rest my batter every time.

Guess what?
They’re still good.

Are they better rested? Yeah. Probably. The flavor deepens. The texture smooths out. The batter behaves like it went to therapy.

But even rushed sourdough crepes are better than no crepes. That’s my hot take and I’m standing by it.

Making Them in a Queens Kitchen (Space Is a Concept)

My kitchen is… intimate.

So making sourdough crepes involves a little choreography. Pan here. Plate there. Batter bowl balanced just so because there is no counter space left.

And flipping crepes in a small kitchen is a full-body experience.

I’ve lost one to the stove burner.
One to the floor.
One directly into the sink (don’t ask).

Still worth it.

The Flip (Or: A Moment of Truth)

Nobody tells you this, but crepe flipping is mostly confidence.

Not skill. Confidence.

I talk to them sometimes.

Is that normal? Don’t answer that.

Sweet or Savory? Yes.

This is where sourdough crepes really shine.

Because of that slight tang, they don’t collapse into sugar overload the way regular crepes sometimes do. They hold their own.

Some favorites from my extremely scientific testing process:

Butter + sugar (classic, undefeated)
Honey + lemon (simple, loud, effective)
Jam + Greek yogurt (chaotic brunch energy)
Scrambled eggs + herbs (breakfast-for-dinner vibes)
Cheese + literally anything in the fridge

One night I ate them plain, standing at the counter, straight from the pan. No plate. No shame.

Still good.

The Starter Makes Them Feel… Alive?

This might sound dramatic but hear me out.

Regular crepes feel polite. Predictable. Well-mannered.

Sourdough crepes feel alive. They bubble differently. Brown unevenly. Sometimes they surprise you with a crisp edge you weren’t expecting.

They feel like food made by a human, not a factory.

And after a long day—subway delays, work emails that could’ve been texts, group chats blowing up over nothing—that matters more than I realized.

Why I Keep Coming Back to Sourdough Crepes

It’s not just about using discard. Or being “that person” with a starter in the fridge.

It’s the ritual.

The quiet sizzle of batter hitting the pan. The smell—slightly yeasty, warm, comforting. The fact that you can mess them up and still eat them.

They’re forgiving food. And some days? I need that.

Final Thoughts (Not a Conclusion, Relax)

If you’ve got sourdough starter and don’t know what to do with it—make sourdough crepes.

If you don’t have starter? Honestly, find a friend who does. We’re all desperate to give it away.

They’re simple. Slightly weird. A little tangy. Deeply comforting.

Kinda like Queens.
Kinda like me.

And if the first one falls apart? Eat it anyway. That’s the cook’s tax.