Dear Kid,
One meal. Five pancakes. Pretty much sufficient for the entire day.
We had breakfast (or possibly breakfastlunchdinnerandallthesnacksinbetween) at Nashville’s Pancake Pantry.
They have a sign at the Pancake Pantry that says “Calories eaten outside your zip code don’t count.” How can you not love these people?
In order to eat at the Pancake Pantry, you have to wait. There’s pretty much no place to wait inside and fortunately the weather cooperated. (That was pretty much the theme of the weekend—weather threat offset by weather cooperating. When you think about it, that’s a great theme.)
The Pancake Pantry is known for—wait for it—pancakes. They are known for spectacular buttermilk pancakes made with a super-secret flour and for sweet potato pancakes. How to choose, how to choose? Easy. I didn’t. I had them split my order half and half.
And then ate myself happy.
Skipped lunch, had some salad for dinner, and may not eat until next Wednesday.
I really hope they’re right about the calories.
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