Enter the exotic, the prestigious, the elite. My parents were no longer working class Midwesterners when the crêpe pan was pulled from its dark corner of the pots-and-pans cupboard. The sight of the wide silver bottom and the slight tilt of the worn red sides transported us into a higher class. Best of all were the engraved words on the bottom of the pan: “Crêpe Pan.” I would close my eyes and trace the letters with my finger. No other cookware in the house had this distinction.