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My first day back at French language school in Aix-en-Provence, I was still doing that special expat thing where you walk in feeling confident… and immediately forget how to say your own name in French. (“Je m’appelle… euh… panique intérieure.”)
And then my friend John—patron saint of gentle nudges and timely cultural trivia—drops this on me:
“By the way, it’s la Chandeleur. Everybody’s making crêpes. Also: I’m hoping it gets you back into writing your blog.”
Reader: it worked. I am extremely easy to bribe with the promise of butter + tradition + a small chance of public embarrassment.
So let’s talk about Candlemas, French-style: La Chandeleur, celebrated on February 2, when kitchens across France turn into warm, steamy little theatres of flipping, laughing, and pretending the first crêpe didn’t just land on the stove like a sad beige scarf. (Wikipedia)
What is La Chandeleur, exactly?
Officially, La Chandeleur is the Christian feast of Candlemas—connected to light (candles), and traditionally marked by candle blessings and processions. In many French households today, though, it’s basically become “le jour des crêpes”—Crêpe Day—equal parts faith, folklore, and “we need something cheerful in February, please.” (Wikipedia)
And like many French traditions, it has that delightful layered history:
a religious feast,
older seasonal “return of the light” vibes,
and a practical countryside logic of using up stored ingredients (hello, last year’s flour). (Wikipedia)
The crêpe itself even looks like the point: round and golden—like a little edible sun. In February, that symbolism hits hard. (Wikipedia)
The French “luck ritual” that turns everyone into a circus performer
Here’s the part John probably should have warned me about before I tried it:
A well-known tradition says you flip the first crêpe with your right hand while holding a coin in your left hand—historically a gold coin—because prosperity, good luck, and possibly because France loves any custom that requires coordination. (Lenord)
Does everyone do it? No.
Do many families still do it because it’s fun and slightly magical? Absolutely.
Does it lead to a moment where a normally serious French parent suddenly becomes an Olympic hopeful over a frying pan? Also yes.
And then there are sayings, too—little weather proverbs that feel like France’s version of Punxsutawney Phil, but with better snacks. One classic goes:
“Quand la Chandeleur est claire, l’hiver est par derrière…” (and the rest basically means: if it’s gloomy, winter’s not done with you yet). (Lenord)
How families actually celebrate it: the real “crêpe energy”
The best part of La Chandeleur isn’t the history lesson—it’s the family ritual vibe.
1) The batter gets made like it’s a group project
There’s usually a household “crêpe person” (every family has one). But on Chandeleur, everyone “helps,” meaning:
someone measures flour with optimism,
someone cracks eggs with chaos,
someone insists the batter must rest “for the gluten” (even if no one can explain it),
and a child licks the spoon like it’s their job.
2) The pan becomes a stage
This is where the family personalities emerge:
The perfectionist: thin, lacey crêpes, uniform edges, calm breathing.
The gambler: flips crêpes like they’re launching satellites.
The realist: quietly uses a spatula and refuses to be shamed. (This is my future.)
The comedian: flips one, misses, bows anyway.
3) The toppings turn into a tiny celebration of “everyone gets a win”
Families set up a little toppings zone—sometimes sweet, sometimes savory, always “just one more.” If you want to do it French-family style, think of it as a curated buffet of options where nobody judges your choices (except maybe your aunt, but lovingly).
Classic sweet favorites you’ll see again and again:
sucre (plain sugar—shockingly perfect)
citron + sucre
confiture (apricot, strawberry…)
chocolat/noisette spreads (yes, Nutella has entered the chat)
miel
and, if someone’s feeling fancy: salted butter caramel energy from Brittany
And then there’s the savory side, where you start hearing about galettes (often buckwheat, especially associated with Brittany), filled with ham, cheese, egg, and whatever makes February feel survivable. (Wikipedia)
4) The quiet revelation: it’s not about the crêpe
Here’s the little shift I didn’t expect (and yes, I got sentimental over pancake batter):
I walked into this thinking, “Okay, a holiday where people eat crêpes. Cute.”
But Chandeleur is one of those French moments that’s secretly about something else:
making winter feel communal.
A small, warm tradition that says: we’re still here, the light is coming back, and we can laugh in the kitchen together.
Also: I learned a line I couldn’t say before, and I’m weirdly proud of it:
“On fait sauter des crêpes ce soir ?”
(“Are we flipping crêpes tonight?”)
If you want to celebrate La Chandeleur at home (without redecorating the ceiling)
A few friendly, very non-chef tips from someone who has watched competent people do this and taken notes:
Rest the batter if you can (even 30 minutes helps).
Use a small knob of butter in the pan between crêpes—French grandmothers are rarely wrong about butter.
First crêpe is the test crêpe. It’s allowed to be ugly. It’s practically the point.
Flip lower than you think. (This is also life advice.)
Make it a “round”: one person cooks, others assemble, then rotate—less stress, more laughter.
Want more origin/meaning reading without going down a 2-hour internet spiral? These explain the coin-flip tradition and the symbolism nicely. (Wikipedia)
La Langue corner: tiny French wins for every level
Because this is Étranger Things, and we’re all out here collecting little language trophies like they’re Pokémon.
A1 (survival + smiles)
“Une crêpe, s’il vous plaît.”
“Au sucre.” / “Au citron.”
A2 (you’re participating!)
“Tu veux une crêpe ?”
“Je la veux très fine.” (I want it very thin.)
“C’est ma première… soyez indulgents.” (It’s my first… be kind.)
B1 (you can narrate the chaos)
“Je viens de la rater, mais c’est la crêpe d’essai.”
(I just messed it up, but it’s the test crêpe.)
B2 (you’re telling the story now)
“Chez nous, on faisait toujours la Chandeleur en famille.”
(In our home, we always celebrated Chandeleur as a family.)
Advanced (go full French-person mode)
“Tu la retournes à la spatule ou tu la fais sauter ?”
(Do you flip it with a spatula or toss it?)
Your turn (comments, please—make me feel less alone with my tragic first flip)
Tell me one thing:
Do you celebrate La Chandeleur?
What’s your go-to topping (team sucre-citron? team confiture? team “I regret nothing” chocolate?)
Have you ever successfully done the coin-in-hand flip, or are you also living in fear?
And if you’re in Aix right now: are you doing crêpes at home, or sneaking off to a crêperie and calling it “cultural research”? 👀
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