Contrary to popular belief, classic French crepes are easy and cheap to make. On the streets of Paris, vendors churn them out faster than you can locate the Eiffel Tower on a tourist map. At home, they cook on the stovetop with the ease of a pancake. But where do crepe-craving San Diegans go when they’re neither bumbling through France nor cheffing in their kitchens?

There are actually several joints around town that cook, fold and stuff crepes, such as Crepes de Paris in Hillcrest, which offers a quaint café atmosphere and many crepe varieties that you’d find in a French brasserie: chicken nicoise, ratatouille, beef provencale, peach melba and more.

Yet where the restaurant (now under new ownership) succeeds in capturing a fiercely French theme, it lacks savoir fare in terms of service and food quality. And perhaps I’m scratching unnecessarily beneath the surface, but nobody in the place seems French.

On my first visit I arrived with a hankering for French onion soup. But what I got needed work. The thin broth tasted oddly like sauerkraut water. The onions were merely wilted instead of caramelized. And my little soup crock was void of la croute, which is the vinyl-like crust of cheese that clings to the exterior of the bowl after it’s put through an oven or broiler. Sadly, the soup wasn’t even hot enough to fully melt the curds floating on top.

My lunch became rather expensive as I entered into crepe territory, where prices range from $7.55 to $10.75 for a pair of crepes, sans any side dishes. Add $2.60 if you want a chintzy garden salad or a plop of pasta. These minor accompaniments, I feel, don’t belong on a la carte lists in casual daytime eateries such as this.

For my crepe entrée I chose the “Chasseur” filled with canned-tasting cubed chicken, mushrooms and a negligible wine sauce that I’m guessing contained about 0.1 percent vino. The dish was uneventful.

A few days later I returned for breakfast with five friends in tow. Most of the group vouched for brunch crepes, which were pleasant for the most part, albeit overpriced. The Benedict with two eggs, for instance, was nearly $10. A thin layer of ham and Swiss cheese were folded into the modest-size crepes, which paired well with the sunny poached eggs and lemony Hollandaise sauce. But the recipient was quick to state afterward, “I could have gotten a lot more food for less money anyplace else.”

Another companion with a more growling appetite ordered the Florentine crepes made with cheese, spinach and Hollandaise. He said they were satisfying for the short time they lasted on the plate. No doubt he would have been better off choosing from the menu of French omelets, all made with three eggs and stuffed with various meats, veggies or seafood.

Two others at the table chose the daily special, a single large crepe filled with scrambled eggs and bacon. They were topped with sour cream, Hollandaise and a tasteless Mornay sauce lacking the Gruyere cheese that normally goes into it.

My selections this second time around were the Beef Stroganoff crepes preceded by a cup of cream of mushroom soup, which was so white and bland that I had to send it back. The soup also arrived too late, just minutes before our entrées were served. The stroganoff, however, consisted of lean and tender sirloin in a silky sour cream sauce that I found enjoyable.

To fill in the empty spots left in some of our stomachs, we ordered two dessert crepes. The Martinique with rum-spiked bananas was delicious, although the orange liqueur sauce served over the crepes Suzette was marred by a burnt flavor, perhaps because it was flambéed for a few extra seconds. Fresh whipped cream on the side helped quell the bitterness.

The disjointed service I encountered in two visits is somewhat excusable, as the new ownership appears to be in the process of streamlining the operation. For now, the wait staff works awkwardly. At breakfast, we waited about 20 minutes for our food to arrive and experienced poor follow-up service once we began eating. My lunch visit proved better, although I was the only person in the restaurant. And when I initially called ahead to inquire about the address and hours, the woman who answered the phone didn’t understand my questions and replied in a heavy Spanish accent, “The owner isn’t here.”

The menu offers 15 different types of crepes along with things like Salade Royale containing goat cheese and baked chicken breast, a few pasta dishes and a couple of specialty sandwiches. On paper, at least, everything’s described with a convincing French twist.

Yet if Crepes de Paris is banking on repeat business, I’m betting it will need to add a few more bites of food onto their dishes and comb through the French cookbooks to fine-tune some of the recipes.