In France, crepes are street food. The paper-thin griddle cakes are quickly baked on platter-size griddles in open-air booths, they're filled with one of a trio of ingredients — butter, jam or a chocolate spread — then folded into quarters and eaten as you stroll.

In America, crepes are dessert, filled with sweetened fruit, such as cherries or apple slices. In old-style supper clubs, the fruit would be caramelized and flamed tableside, and the crepe, smaller and thicker than the French version, filled and dressed with whipped cream.

And there's the challenge for Crepes No Ka 'Oi, the 2-month-old cafe on Kailua's Hekili Street: Their crepes are neither street food (you get to sit down in a charming, flower-filled, sweetly fragrant room) nor are they all dessert (and no, there is no tableside flaming).

But say "crepe" to an American, and they think sweet. Not very filling. And expensive. (And we also tend to mispronounce the word: It's not "craype," as in drape; it's "crehp," rhymes with Johnny Depp.)

No Ka 'Oi's menu contradicts all these American stereotypes. Their crepes are French in style: the size of a bicycle tire and so thin, they're translucent. Fillings range from savory to sweet. And the savory selections (12 of them, plus 14 optional additions) actually outnumber the dessert crepes (11 of them, with nine optional additions, including the very un-French idea of adding ice cream).

Yes, there are jam or Nutella-filled dessert crepes ($5.50-$7.50), dusted with confectioner's sugar and drizzled with whipped cream or, depending on your choice, butter and lemon, chocolate powder, cinnamon, honey or even peanut butter.

But there are also crepes that constitute hearty meals. These include four types of breakfast crepes ($7.50-$8.50), square packets so full of good things that they're the size of fat omelets. There's a heavy emphasis on cheese, but also playing a role are turkey or ham, vegetables such as mushrooms and spinach, and flavor enhancers that range from fresh basil to pineapple chunks. And the influences roam the culinary planet with Italian-style and Southwest-style crepes and a couple of healthy options, including a breakfast crepe with yogurt and granola ($7.50) and a vegetarian dinner crepe with cheese, veggies and caramelized sweet onions ($8).

The morning we visited, my girlfriend and I went in different directions. I ordered the Breakfast Basic (cheese, scrambled egg, turkey or ham; $7.50) but I loaded it with more good stuff — tomatoes, mushrooms, olives and a side of sour cream (50 cents each).

The waitress, bright and attentive, took the time to ask if I wanted these extras on top or within the crepe. I like that kind of attention to detail.

The crepe, its round corners tucked in to form a bulbous packet, was so full of ingredients that, despite the lack of any side dishes, it had me rubbing my tummy and calling for a takeout container before I'd eaten more than a third of it. The egg was perfect, not too dry; the sliced black olives added a little hint of salt (green would be better); they'd thoughtfully seeded the fresh tomatoes; the jack and cheddar cheeses gently bound the whole together. And the side of sour cream was more than generous. I liked this approach a lot better than a breakfast burrito; fork-tender and easier to eat.

My girlfriend, homesick for France, where she has visited a number of times, went for a plain We're Jammin' (choice of strawberry or boysenberry preserves or guava jelly) plus powdered sugar and whipped cream. She even skipped the whipped cream, purist that she is. She said the crepes were a bit more "eggy" than in France, but still tres delicieux.

"In France, the emphasis is more on the crepe," she noted, "here, the emphasis is more on the filling."

The coffee, our cups kept constantly filled, was excellent, and they use insulated thermoses instead of open carafes, so it's properly hot.

Besides the food, one of the best things about the restaurant is that owners Chris and Rosario "Kakay" Tarvyd designed it so that you can walk up to a glassed-in prep area and watch the crepes being made. It looks simple, but I suspect it takes considerable skill: The chef pours a ladle of thin batter onto the hot, hubcap-size flat griddle and uses a T-shaped wooden tool to spread the mixture thinly over the whole. A flat implement rather like a paint stirrer is used to trim away any drips clinging around the edge and then to fold one edge of the crepe a couple of times and, with an astonishing flip of the wrist, the crepe is turned. When it's golden and showing a few bubbles, it's done and ready to fill and fold.

The Tarvyds learned to love crepes in Tahiti and the Philippines, respectively. They met in the Philippines, where she lived and he was in the military. Their first date was at a creperie. Married and transferred to Hawai'i, they noticed that one of their favorite foods was conspicuously absent. And, since they loved farmers markets, street fairs and festivals, and wanted to work together, they decided to introduce the Islands to crepes by developing a mobile vending operation. (And, yes, now there are other companies doing this, but theirs is probably the only sit-down crepe restaurant here.)

Ask Kakay about their first event. It's a good story.

Kakay said they did about 50 or 60 events a year, selling mostly sweet crepes, but they tired of the packing and unpacking and decided to try a bricks-and-mortar option. Interestingly, she said they sell more savory crepes when people sit down.

We were amused to see all the folks waiting in line for Boots & Kimo's just a couple of doors down while No Ka 'Oi had a number of tables open. With all respect to Boots & Kimo's, a longtime favorite of ours, check out the new kid just down the street, too.