Breakfast #4: Breaking Eggs in the Silence-Heart Nest

This week Pacifica and I were joined by guest diners, Liora and Howard, who met us bright and early in the empty streets of Fremont. Fremont is a north Seattle neighborhood trying hard to remain quirky, claiming to be the center of the universe and boasting a genuine, 20ft statue of Lenin rescued from the proletariat of Slovenia, and today marching brilliantly towards a cluster of bourgeois condos and staring out toward the Olympic Mountains. My three-year-old said she does not like him, but she does like Spongebob. Sorry Mr. Ulyanov. Must be tough knowing that you lost the war...to Nickelodeon.

We chose a restaurant true to the spirit of Fremont, the Silence-Heart-Nest Vegetarian Restaurant. Apparently it is a new addition to the Fremont scene, and supposed to be packed on the weekends. Lucky for us, the girls are up at the crack of dawn, which means that we were able to settle into our seats without a fuss. The interior of the Silence-Heart-Nest is bright and cheery, with plenty of paintings on the walls which appear to be by the Indian Spiritual Master Sri Chinmoy, and there was plenty of literature about if anyone cared to learn more about him. A group of what I think were waitresses sat at the counter eating breakfast in sloppy excuses for saris, and we were served by a nice quiet man in a smart blue polo shirt.

We came for the food, and the first thing that the girls ordered was straight off the menu: slices of watermelon. Unfortunately, the pictures of watermelon (and the three subsequent orders) were merely decorations for the kids menu; cute, but not quite what was available. We finally talked the girls into getting pretty much the same thing: a side of fruit, some pancakes, and fake meat--even though the pictures were NOT on the menu. Pacifica went for the bacon, Liora took sausage. Howard and I focused on the vegetarian-takes-on-classics, selecting the the Western Roundup and the Eggs Benedict, respectfully.

While we waited for the food, Howard and I got into an in-depth discussion about photography in general, and the Nikon D40 in particular. After about 5 minutes, I was sold, but the conversation went on, and the food didn't arrive, so the girls decided to take things into their own hands, and began chanting "We want food! We want food!" Howard and I pretty much ignored them, as the camera chat drew us both deeper into a trance, the girls got louder and we didn't really notice that we were violating rule number one of the restaurant (Silence) until the waiter rushed out with a bucket of toys. This calmed the girls, and while they drove the trucks across the table, we got back into our testing of Howard's camera.

When the food came out, it arrived en masse, nice and hot. The plates were a little small compared to your regular greasy spoon, but vegetarians and yogis probably don't eat as much as typical American greasy spoon diners, like truckers, so we wound up eating everything and had no takeaway. The food was pretty good. The fake bacon tasted alright, but nothing can match the real thing. The poached eggs were poached as they should be, the English muffins were hearty whole wheat, and the grilled onions and tomatoes were a nice addition. The girls went through their meals right quick--the hearty buckwheat pancakes had a nice earthy flavor that made me think I was giving my daughter a healthy meal, even after they had soaked up a 1/2 cup of syrup and a 1/2 block of butter. By the end of the meal the place was picking up, but it was awfully silent for a full restaurant. I am not sure they want us to come back, but I am thinking it would be nice to try some of their other items...packing my new Nikon D40 and sneaking in some real bacon, of course.

Breakfast #3: Not the Original Original Pancake House

This month we visited a Northwest staple, the Original Pancake House. Pacifica went as Cindarella, and I of course had to dress up in a jacket and tie, as the nameless Prince. According to our sources, this place makes all of its 'cakes from scratch, guards its recipes with high-powered rifles, and has legions of line cooks working around the clock to peel all the apples and grind the flour necessary for feeding the hundreds of kids who show up every weekend morning. Though the 'cake House in our neighborhood is not the original Original Pancake House, they certainly lived up to our expectations.

Lucky for us, we showed up early on a Sunday, before the brunch and church crowds. The House actually seems to be a converted house, with a waiting room/porch tacked onto the front so as to accommodate the dozens of people who line up on the weekends., and paneled in that house-where-you-eat-pancakes nostalgic sort of way (I think the Germans have a word for this: pancakessenhausgezeit) . As the waiting room was empty, we were able to waltz in and secure a table without a hassle. On the way in, Pacifica (Cinderella) noticed the kid menus, and we picked up two just in case we spilled syrup, and our waitress soon brought us a cup full of crayons, a cup of coffee for me (the Prince), and some moo juice for Cinderella.

I usually do not order pancakes, but given all the hype surrounding the House, I figured I would give them a shot, but it was a tough call...the pigs in a blanket sure sounded appetizing. However, the sweet side prevailed, I went for the walnut pancakes from the adult menu, and Pacifica went for the kid-flavored chocolate chip pancakes off the kids menu. They arrived within minutes (thanks to the legions of around-the-clock cooks), and were light, fluffy, and certainly tasted like they were made from scratch by people who know their 'cakes. They also came with some whipped butter, plenty of syrup, and we had enough in leftovers to bring back to feed the rest of our family.

The meal was great, but the downside was the seating. Pacifica requested that we sit next to each other, but the waitress was not able to accommodate us, and so we sat across from one another. "Really far across" according to one in our party. Plus, to make matters worse, my chair abutted a gentleman with a big butt, who showed his chair out and into mine when he left, and then made some weird Donald Duck noise at Pacifica as he walked past. Creep. Do kids even know what Donald Duck sounds like these days? Not mine. Luckily, the pancakes were so good that we soon forgot all about it.