Skip to main content

If You Offer Heather a Pancake, She'll Order a Grilled Cheese Sandwich


It was Wednesday.

I had the day off.

Stella’s brakes were shot and her back tire was flat.

After dropping the bike off at a repair shop, my watch said noon.  My stomach said lunch.

I ended up at the Pancake House.

How do you like the hard-boiled detective (a la Dragnet) narrative I’ve got going?  No?  Very well.

I am a big fan of breakfast.  No, wait...I am a big fan of breakfast at any time of the day.  And naturally, when I walked into The Pancake House at noon on a weekday, I assumed I’d be ordering breakfast.  I’d order the weirdest, more creative breakfast item on the menu.  That’s what I thought would happen, anyway, when I sat down and perused the menu. 

But, then I realized...breakfast at The Pancake House was, well, mundane.  Skillets, omelettes, and the like.  And honestly, I can get all that at Denny’s.

Plan B: Cheeseburger.  So, I’m looking down the list of burgers and sandwiches, and then, I see it: The Ultimate Grilled Cheese.  And I am super-intrigued.  Because there’s a lot of cojones that goes into the decision to put the word ‘ultimate’ in front of any food dish.

Three different kinds of cheese (Swiss, provolone, and Cheddar) melted between Parmesan-crusted rye bread.

Oh, be still, my cholesterol-clogged heart.

So I place my order and check out the environs while I wait.  The decor is retro-farmhouse...red and white gingham wallpaper dotted with cows, chickens, and old-school milk bottles, white wainscoting and chair rail, Formica tabletops, and the padded, metal-frame chairs popular in 50s-era diners.  It’s bright and clean and busy.  Waitstaff bustle about in red polos and khakis, and I can’t help but think staff uniforms could have been more creative for such a charming, cozy dining spot.

Eventually, I get my sandwich.  It looks pretty cool...except for the Ruffles-esque potato chips that come as the side.  Potato chips?!  Ugh.  Dammit.  Give me a unique coleslaw or German potato salad or sweet potato fries instead of potato chips. 

 
In many ways, the Ultimate Grilled Cheese missed the mark.  I loved the globby, melty cheesy inside...but the flavor of the rye completely dominated the cheese.  And while I like rye bread, that’s all I tasted.  A Dijon mustard or chipotle mayo would have gone a long way in balancing that strong flavor.  And I would have ordered extra to dip my plain-Jane chips in.

Nevertheless, I will probably try this place again.  After all, it is only one of two or three places on the island that offer breakfast.

And if you offer Heather breakfast, she’ll want to order pancakes.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

For You!

I'm torn.  It's 8:40 p.m. here.  I know that I have roughly one hour of wakefulness left before I collapse onto my pillow for the night. My new term of classes start tomorrow.  My backpack is ready to go.  So is my leftover-lunch.  So is my breakfast smoothie.  All important emails has been sent.  I'm caught up on Facebook news. Hm.  How does one spend their last hour of energy before beginning the roller coaster ride of a new term? By watching Downton Abbey, Season 1 again...natch.  Now that there's no more DA until next January, I must watch the old episodes again for that fix.  And that, up until about twn minutes ago, was exactly what I'd planned on doing. Until I popped in here for moment to check on things.  And by things, I mean my "Stats".  And actually, by that, I mean my "Audience".  And I was shocked to see that in the last 24 hours, there have been more looks here at Be Food from France than from the US...

Time to Refocus

Okay.  I know I've got a Cratchit Christmas Dinner to recap and illustrate for you here, and I have every intention of doing so. But, first...something that's on my mind: food. You're shocked, yes? I happen to be on a short hiatus from school and work, and I admit, I have the tiniest desire to be working or studying right now.  I mean, someone to crack the whip at my back.  It is all so easy to fall into a lifestyle of sloth during this holiday season. I spent last weekend at my in-laws house.  They live in the country + painful below-zero temps = no exercise.  There's a fair amount of sitting on the couch, watching hunting shows or basketball games.  I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, preparing the evening meals (and by golly, I was glad to do it).  Also, my husband's mom firmly believes in three hearty, plentiful meals a day...hard to get my crowd excited about stuffed pork loin when they've just gorged on ham balls and cheesy potatoes. ...

From Government Regulations to Chicken

So, I really wanted tonight's post to be whippy and biting and highly intelligent...and I've even got the perfect topic - government wine regulations: Europe vs. the US (subtitle: European Governments Seem to Trust Their Citizens A Whole Lot More The US, Otherwise Why Don't French, et al., Wine Labels Have the Surgeon General's "Pregnant Women Should Not Drink This/This Beverage Impairs Your Brain" Warning). But, I realized that to begin a post like that, I should probably know the answer to the question, yes?  Why do American wine labels include the warning, when, I don't know, isn't just common sense?  A quick search of this very query lands me at Wikipedia, which is good enough for a rude overview, but nothing that indicates why it's a law in the first place. Hence, more reading is required.  I hope to get to it soon.  It's almost August, two-thirds of this year is nearly gone, and sometimes I feel as I am moving very, very quickly along...