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Photograph by Katherine Bish

First the clubs were supposed to save downtown’s soul. Then it was the lofts, promising resurrection with every swath of exposed brick and slab of sealed-concrete flooring. But most of the clubs have come and gone, and the loft rage (and its, ahem, lofty ambitions) has softened to a whimper, thanks to a soggy real-estate market.

Perhaps it’s time for a third contestant to take up the charge, to lead downtown toward ever-better cosmopolitan glory: the crêpe.

After the unanticipated success of the weekend-brunch crêpe service at copy center–cum–café Washington Avenue Post, here comes Rooster, a charming four-month-old eatery at Locust and 11th that gives the crêpe, through a large selection of sweet and savory varieties, pride of place on its menu. And though the French specialty may not be quite as architecturally impressive as, say, an open floor plan with 12-foot ceilings and spiral ductwork, it’s a nifty bit of culinary construction all the same, one that Rooster owner David Bailey (of Baileys’ Chocolate Bar fame) knows how to amp up with a smartly curated assemblage of top-shelf ingredients.

In a nice gesture toward Continental fashion, Rooster’s baristas ask customers whether they’d like their crêpes “wrapped up European-style” or “folded on the plate.” (Those baristas take orders at the counter; the storefront’s really too small to squeeze in a floor server.) Either way, it’s what’s in the crêpe that counts most, and this is where Rooster really pulls out all the stops.

Bailey started with eight basic foodstuffs—from egg to brie, chicken to sirloin—and piled on a variety of ever more inventive and rarefied ingredients (ever heard of Emmentaler cheese?) to invent 20 different crêpes. “Brie #1” comes with a thin fried egg and baby arugula leaves; “Brie #2” swaps out the egg and greens for roasted, spiced apple, and “Brie #4” complements the aforementioned apples with spicy nuts and crème fraîche. Likewise, the roasted sirloin can be ordered with just caramelized onions or with onions and bleu cheese or with mushrooms, Asiago cheese and onions. To nominate one or two standouts really wouldn’t be fair, for truly each imparts terrifically calibrated combinations of richness, flavor and texture. (OK, the “Goat Cheese #1,” with mushrooms, basil and tomatoes, rocks, and for only $6.75. On the flip side, the “Marinated Spicy Chicken #2,” though nestled in a gooey-good cushion of fried egg and fontina cheese, shows little evidence of marinade or spice.)

On the sweet side, Bailey challenges the palate with crêpes of lemon and ricotta; liquor-poached fig cream and roasted nuts; and berries with gjetost, a Norwegian cheese with only a trace of sugar. In fact, sugariness doesn’t sit well with Bailey—ironic, considering how well it’s served his Chocolate Bar. He prefers to serve his crème fraîche unsweetened and to stuff his crêpes with many of those mildly sweet imported cheeses. (Still, you can order any one of them with a scoop of ice cream.)

Salads and sandwiches round out the menu. On weekends you can get French toast, oatmeal, strips of bacon as daintily crisp as a butterfly’s wings and an open-faced fried-egg sandwich boasting the most optimistically orange yolks you’ve ever seen. That Bailey has chosen to house all this ingenuity and goodness in a former barber shop—its fabulous Art Deco tilework intact—speaks well to downtown’s potential: the offering of something new, something now, something we didn’t know we wanted until we got it.