Pancakes and Keno

Sweet. I can now consider myself a so called blogger, for whatever that may be worth. Let’s get into the background of this so called “real americana”. The original idea came to me in a very different form, as I was thinking about what to do after graduate school. The immediate response and most obvious was of course to get a job, make money…and then what? Where was, nay where is the satisfaction in that? I absolutely forbid the idea of my life becoming a reiterating Dilbert strip. So, my obvious response to this scenario was “Fuck That!” which honestly leaves me between somewhere the line of living with my parents or bumming change for the rest of my life. So, I compromised and came up with the solution that ever high school graduate determines is the event that will forever change the souls of not only themselves but everyone he or she may encounter. Road trip. Yeah, a road trip, but this would be no ordinary trip by horseless carriage. No, this would be the road trip that would connect me back to my roots. No lasers, no computers, and most importantly no arrogant assholes to deal with on a daily basis. This would be a road trip sampling the “best” diners and the “best” bars in the shitting small towns that no one would ever visit as it is not a direct exit of the interstate. Of course, ideas often are never fully realized. So, start out exploring the local area. Who knows, maybe in the end it will happen. But for now, this is the beginning. Lets get down to the nitty gritty.

D dubya and I randomly stumbled across this oasis of americana on our way to the bike shop. Of course my immediate attention was to the title “Pancake Circus” followed by the astonishment of the seafood text in the “Steaks Seafood Salads” subtitle. Seafood and Pancakes…glorious. However, I should also point out that whenever we mentioned this to our friends, well…needless to say our enthusiasm was shared between the two of us and no one else. Curiously enough, seafood was not to be found on the menu anywhere. Disappointing to say the least. Other aspects definitely made the experience worthwhile though. Cheap circus clowns hanging from the ceiling, short order cooks wearing toque’s and for whatever reason safety glasses, a sassy waitress, and probably one of the most random things I have seen in a restaurant outside of Montana or Nevada would be Keno. Ahh…who doesn’t love playing keno after church on a Sunday morning while munching down some on questionably delicious pancakes.

As I said earlier, no seafood. Which in retrospect is most likely a good thing as I was severely hung over during this excursion. However, I still feel robbed on a purely metaphysical aspect. Instead of my whimsical dreams consisting of an exotic dish of lobster tail served on top of a wasabi based syrup over a fluffy blanket of pancakes, I chose the “Pancaked sandwich” . As true to the name as you could ever get, picture a club sandwich-replace the bread with pancakes, the turkey and bacon with a sausage patty, and the vegetables with a hard fried egg, the mayonnaise with an abnormal mound of butter and voila! you have the pancake sandwich.

I honestly wished that I could say it was delicious without lying to you, but hey who says I can’t. It was damn fucking good. Take my word for it, for I will not lead you astray. What else would you expect from this place? To add to this incredibly mediocre meal was the mediocre coffee. On the plus, It was bottomless so drink up. Splash a little milk, by a little I do insinuate enough to make a mini latte, some sugar and if Jesus himself were drinking this coffee, he would of course give it the good ol’ American thumbs up.

On the back of your ticket is a questionnaire to rate the performance of the food and the service. In the extreme possibility that you or your loved one was not satisfied with either, a sad clown with a popped balloon will somehow convey this to the owners and managers.

In the end I will leave you with this. What would have been a top notch place in the early days has sadly become a haven to only those you experienced it first hand back in the day and to those who wished we had, such as myself and my friend.