Ivory Table


SFP Kristen (23)
Growing up, I remember the sound of my mother cooking. The chopping, the water running, and the smell of onions, celery and carrots sautéing in butter as she made the beginnings of one of her delicious soups. There was no greater comfort to me. She made biscuits with sourdough in an old cast iron pan and called them “cowboy biscuits”. They were magical and often I would peer through the oven window and watch them as they puffed and eventually emerged with that slight dusting of golden flour lying on their tops. We would clamor for them and then pull apart their tender steaming insides and slather them with my mother’s famous homemade raspberry jam. We had humble means, but at my mothers table we always felt like royalty. After dinner, my mom would play the guitar and sing to my brother and me. It was how she loved us. Music and food were joys of my upbringing and I pursued both in life.

Many years later, while working as a cook in Chinon, a small town in the Loire River region of France, I was caught in a sudden downpour. The clouds gathered in black billows and exploded over the small town with soaking sheets of rain, and earth-shaking thunder. I immediately ducked into the nearest doorway to escape the deluge. I had unknowingly wandered into a small creperie, crowded with others, who just like me, were looking for somewhere dry to wait out the storm. I made my way to one of the tables near the window and peered outside. To this day I don’t remembering ordering. All I remember is that within minutes, a lovely French woman brought to me a creation of the Gods. A beautiful buckwheat crepe stuffed with sweet sauteed apples, melted Normandy butter and just a touch of sugar. I savored every mouthwatering bite, brimming with joy at this happy accident. I couldn’t speak French and had no way to communicate the feeling I had inside. I eventually left France and later went on to pursue a career in music.  Many times since I have thought back on that small café, with its little steamy windows, and the sound of the drainpipe gurgling the gushing rain down onto the cobblestone streets. Time stopped, rain poured, people laughed, and for that moment, life was perfect and a radiating love filled that small creperie. It is this moment I have longed for.  So many times on the road with my band I have looked for a place or a feeling just like the one I had in that quaint town;  the feeling of comfort, and of belonging in a strange new place.

– Kristen Ward


The Ivory Table,  is owned and operated by Kristen Ward, who in 2014, left the Seattle music scene and returned to Spokane, WA to pursue the dream of opening her own restaurant.  When she stumbled upon a little building in Spokane’s East Sprague District, Kristen knew she had found a diamond in the rough. Ward immediately had a vision for fabulous catering company and small store-front creperie. She renovated the space, bringing to it a clean, slightly industrial, yet very cozy feel. Ward painted the front of the building robin’s-egg blue and hung a charming black & white striped awning like the ones she had seen in Europe. Classically trained in Culinary Arts with much of her learning focused on French cuisine, Ward put her knowledge to use and created Spokane’s only creperie specializing in buckwheat crepes, a style of crepes found in Northern France.  The Ivory Table also offers boutique catering and has garnered a loyal following of crepe, sandwich and salad lovers.