Greater Seattle's Worst and Best Pancakes
Several times leaving the QFC grocer in Greenwood, Seattle, police vehicles caught my eye. They caught my eye in the sense that I had to realize why they were clustering in a far corner of the parking lot. A nest.
With a nest comes eggs, and where there are eggs, albeit stating this usual rule apologetically to my vegan readers, there is breakfast. And breakfast it was, drawing in Seattle's finest. How good was it, hmm?
My questions brimmed over while yummy memories challenged the new coming idea of Patty and her eggnest. The potential decorations took over my interests as I contemplated whether the restaurant interior was like an actual bird nest. It may have been the Taylor Swift in me, but I thought it would be grand if the door transported me into the likeness of a bird's kitchen and dining space.
Thinking back on the birdcage theme of a younger Swift's home, I wondered how a set of "organic nest", with circular booths and low hanging, branch-like lighting could cuddle one into the homey feeling mama bird was feeding baby birds. I stopped there.
One quiet morning last week, I found time to slip into Patty's Eggnest and try something on the menu. Thrilled with fare descriptions, it was hard to pass up the British Breakfast of English muffins and other alluring pleasantries, but I eventually decided on my favorite IHOP offering, Corned Beef Hash.
It was pretty good. I liked the tenderness of the corned beef and the heaping serving size. A drawback, the potatoes didn't quite make the mark and were rather bland in my opinion. Chewing, I bit into a couple pieces of green pepper, which I assume found their way into my main dish by way of flattop, no harm no foul, but I prefer the added onion and seasoning in IHOP's version. Although I'm unsure when I'll be going back there since the last time I enjoyed my favorite, I folded my leftovers in a napkin for my dog and accidentally left it appearing like just a napkin.
The problem with that is, my napkin was sure to make a mess no matter who cleared the table. The question of why? And, who would do that? And my not being there to explain would make me look guilty of whatever they imagined, even, gulp..., the implied ignorance of to-go boxes.
Elephante back to the realm of discipline.
Impractical nest dreams of theme parkish food spots aside, the cafe had an almost "at home" feel to it, with eye friendly, dimmer lights and welcoming vintage music. I didn't care for the unique house jam, although the concept could be sensational, the strawberry jam was like watery, thawed and processed frozen strawberries with a hint of sugar.
American breakfast boasts of lightly fried or baked batters. Flapjacks, griddle cakes or pancakes - whatever you prefer to call them - are menu staples across the nation. Everyone seemed to take a shot at making them but I began to wonder what restaurant around could offer a better pancake than IHOP?
Since Pierce County Sherrifs seemed to be regulars there, and because the eggnest wasn't all bad, I decided to try Elmer's. I walked in before the morning rush and waited awhile for a hostess to show up and greet me. The pancakes weren't terrible, and had a good taste, but they didn't beat IHOP.
Having indulged in the famous, light pancakes from Elmer's, I felt it was unfair to judge their greatness without having tried the competition just down the street. I decided to drop into Shari's on 72nd to try pancakes because I just tried the cinnamon roll on my first visit to a Shari's in North Seattle.
Shari's was inconsistent, some bites were overinflated with vanilla flavor but the majority of the cakes were dry, overcooked and tasted only of adverage tasting syrup and butter topping.
Disgusted but determined that better, sweet, pan fried batter was out there, just hiding in some corner cafe or low profile wall with a door, I pursued on.
Patty's Diner on Tacoma Ave struck me as the type of spot whose chef would put some thought into a classic or even put a classic spin on everyday pancakes. Pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar tasted like a good box mix, but then something extra. The atmosphere of vintage Marilyn Monroe pictures, 1950's theme of crowded trinkets and a variety of old school telephones that used to be plugged to the walls to work, created an entertaining experience. Not too angry, great service at a place that's fun to see with creative taste.
The Original Pancake House on 6th Ave in Tacoma was next to evaluate. They have the best written menu out of places in this post. I liked the blues music at a volume perfect for 8:43am. Since the best pancakes were what I was after, I ordered what they call pancakes on their menu.
Let's talk first about the hair in the butter. One hair equals Elephante and mouse in small, confined, micro studio apartment. Powering through that horror flick, I removed the hair because I was convinced by the well written description of the original aged batter pancakes that they would hit high on my quality score. Boy.
So back in Missouri there's a popular bread, I believe was brought to the US by German immigrants. Amish Friendship bread is a delicious, yum, and yummier treat made from aged batter. I was sold based on memories of scrumptious bread that these pancakes would hold the same wonderful taste.
Someone slapped the Elephante.
Two chewing attempts and I began to question who came to the conclusion that those things were meant for consumption? Aged and rotten are far separated places in the world of food. Cheese v. Rotten Milk here. What else can I say?
Later that same day, I was impressed to find somewhere serving edible comfort food. I went for Black Bear Diner in Federal Way.
As I was seated at the "bar" - a take on the traditional eat at the bar offerings found in diners across America - I was interested in the visual of a hectic looking kitchen with cooks bantering about missing orders and quick changes verbally called over by wait staff. The menu, an entertaining newspaper with snips of wording that intend to take patrons deep forest and make them feel truly "black beared" with matching themed cups, placemats, and sugar packets wasn't all that appealing to me.
Ordering a "mini volcano" from the lighter fare menu, I expected the thing a diner can't get wrong to be in business. Elephante angry. The pancakes were crispy and dry, even with an overeasy egg on the top of the cakes - for some reason. I couldn't find flavor or taste in any of the bites I gave a chance with my mouth. Coffee was see-through, weaker than any I've ever paid for. I was so appalled it became difficult to speak.
Elephante left with gigantic elephant ears pinned back against huge skull.
I can't even think about pancakes right now, but I will state, you can't deny perfection. International House of Pancakes has mastered a good quality pancake that is hard to measure up to.