Today, a very nice woman served me a mediocre breakfast at The Pancake House. The experience wasn't terrible, but, except that the waitress reminded my of my favorite aunt, who I miss very much, there's no reason for me to return to the place. The Pancake House is set in a large, clean space that's past its prime. When I sat down at 8:45 a.m., the restaurant was nearly empty; when I left, more than half of its numerous tables were occupied by working-class diners and retirees. While many of my fellow customers seemed to know one another, I'd bet that those folks have only ever met there, over coffee and eggs. It seems The Pancake House, like many such eateries, serves a secondary purpose as a community gathering place. My breakfast, chosen from an extensive menu, consisted of: - Bacon and ham, both of which were overcooked, which rendered them overly salty; - Over-medium eggs, cooked just right; - "Country" potatoes, sliced thin, dotted with bits of white onion and nicely crisped on a flat-top; - "Country" gravy - a very peppery and glutinous white sauce laced with bits of yesterday's sausage links and bacon; and - Three 4-" buttermilk pancakes, properly prepared, but served with some sort of butter substitute and a sugary syrup that might have included maple flavoring, but that had certainly never been near a maple tree. An order of coffee delivered a cup and an entire pitcher of coffee for the table, a labor-saving measure, of course, but a nice touch, nonetheless. If I lived nearby and wanted occasionally to fuel up on familiar foods (and didn't care much about their quality), and wanted to be treated kindly by staff and my fellow diners, then The Pancake House might be my default breakfast spot. But, as nice as the nice parts were, the restaurant is a bit of a hike from my house, so I doubt I'll dine there again. read more