By Daniel Hartill,Staff Writer
Lionel “Pepsi” Bergeron returns to the C’est Si Bon Cafe after heart surgery.

LEWISTON – Behind the side-by-side stoves where the cooks shuffled skillets, Lionel “Pepsi” Bergeron kept one eye on the second hand of his watch and the other on a crepe-to-be.

Bergeron, the crepe master, watched a man ladling the yellow liquid into a skillet. He followed the puddle of milk, eggs and flour as it moved across eight gas burners and landed on the grill, where it was flipped and folded.

It was a quick crepe.

“One minute,” he said. Fast enough, he figured. Then, he backed up two steps. His shoulders sank and he took a deep breath.

Just five weeks ago, on June 29, Bergeron underwent heart bypass surgery. He spent eight days in the hospital before the doctors let him go home.

He tires easily, now. He can’t help out the way he once did. He had to be there, though.

The C’est Si Bon Cafe is his place.

For the past 12 years, he has reigned here. His three-day crepe-making operation has become as central to the annual Festival de Joie as the singers on the stages.

Over three days, the cafe is expected to sell more than 8,000 of the not-so-fluffy French pancakes.

Bergeron designed the kitchen and created its assembly-line format. But he is known more to festival-goers as Pepsi, the smiling, barrel-chested man who sings “Alouette” behind the grill.

As the cafe tent readied for its first customers Friday morning, there was little singing, though. Under hanging electric lanterns, about 20 people worked to prepare food and ready the dining area. Round tables were decorated in red and blue checkered tablecloths.

A loudspeaker began playing Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.”

At 7 a.m., the first customers were served.

Robert Lambert of Lewiston was the second in line. He comes every year. The crepes keep him coming back. They taste like the ones his mother, who came from northern Maine, made when he was a boy.

“They sure have it mastered,” Lambert said.

Bergeron watched as the first crepes were made, guiding cooks Cindy Larock and Lionel Guay, the festival’s chairman.

Bergeron was subdued, though.

When a woman on the serving line began “Alouette,” Bergeron turned away. It would be too much activity, he worried.

Moments later, someone waved and yelled, “Pepsi!”

People seemed to know him all over.

He was even stopped once at a restaurant in Florida. The guy was from New Hampshire and regularly attended the festival. He knew his nickname, but not his real name.

“About 90 percent of people only know me as Pepsi,” he said, sitting down for his first crepe of the festival.

He delicately spread a line of syrup across the thin pancake. Atop the syrup, he sprinkled walnuts. Then, he rolled it up.

He savored the first bite, smiling. When he finished, he was on his feet again, watching over a cook’s shoulders as a busload of people began to arrive.

He glanced at the incoming customers. Then, he made a bargain with the cooks.

“I’ll sing if you help me,” he said.

“Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai.”