Breakfast #9, 10, 11: Back to Basics

The past three months have been plenty busy for us (moving to a new house, school search, kendo practice...), but we kept up the Pancake Jack and Jill tradition.  The past few breakfasts have taken us back to some of our old favorites, kept us in touch with family and friends, and along the way we've introduced a new frequent diner, Issei.  Despite weighing in at only 28 pounds, he can still pack away the 'cakes with the best of them, and (unlike his sister) does not get too distracted by the globs of butter--he heads for the 'cakes.

In November we entertained my parents, and took them down to Patty's Egg Nest, the place where our tradition began, and conveniently located within walking distance of where we lived then, and where we live now.  Patty's was able to seat our party of six without any fuss, and the kids were all smiles as they started drawing on the placemats and we sipped on simple coffee, bottomless coffee, the kind that makes me think of high school nights at Perkins and Country Kitchen up in Bemidji.  I tried out the Swedish pancakes, which were light, eggy, and even better than they looked.  I can't recall what all the other had, but the kids were excited by the whipped cream-smiley faces on their shortstacks.  Pacifica ate the whipped cream, and one piece of fruit, then got into the butter, and started mooching whipped cream from Issei.  I think Pacifica had one bite of the pancake, while Issei made a generous dent in his.  The plastic toys were cute and kept the kids entertained at the busstop as we waited for a bus to take us down to the Ballard farmers market...all in all, another nice trip to the 'Nest.

In December, both Pacifica and Issei got dolled up to try out Portage Bay Cafe in the University District, and we were joined by Liora and Howard.  My old commuter bus drove right by this Portage Bay every morning, and I'd been hearing how great it is, so decided to check it out.  The first thing that was bad was our seating--we were seated in a high-foot-traffic zone near the door, and Issei's high chair was plop in the middle of the thoroughfare.  This despite there being plenty of other seats deeper in the cafe, and plenty of smaller parties starting to shuffle in through the door.  The kids each got a bag of crayons and something to write on, and then some juice I did not want to pay for was delivered ("do you want juice?" the waitress asks the 2-3-and 4 yer old..."Yes!" they reply...duh) but soon the table was crowded out and then things began to tip, crayons began to break and fall under the feet of the passing staff and customers, and it all generally caused great commotion and consternation for myself and Howard.  Next came the 'cakes, and we needed to get up and serve ourselves from the buffet of toppings, which turned into a big old hassle, with kids calling out what they wanted to us harried dads "more strawberries! no, not blueberries! put it back!! Ug, I wanted MORE strawberries!" ...When we dads finally got around to eating, I recall Howard being a bit disappointed with his meal. Mine was fine, but I was pretty happy to just get out of there.  And then the bill came, two juices, two kids meals, and mine, and I felt like it really was not work $50, even with the two green crayons that Issei snuck out in his pockets. 

We started the decade at what I am beginning to sense is the best Pancake house in Seattle...the Pancake House.  Georgia and Joe joined us early on a bright morning.  One great thing about the Pancake House is its neon sign, which has a chubby chef flipping neon pink cakes into the sky, and the heated hall where you can sit and sip coffee and wait for a table (rather than standing out in the parking lot).  Luckily we always get in early, before the church rush, and so we had no trouble getting a seat.  Our seats were a little cramped, but when the waitress brought out some apple pancake samples we forgot all about it--sweet baked apple slices encased in an egg-rich cake batter, nicely flavored with butter, sugar, and cinnamon.  How can you go wrong with that?  I went for the bacon pancakes, which were simple 'cakes loaded with chopped up bits of bacon.  The savory was nice, but I think I should have gone for a full baked apple pancake instead.  Issei went for kids blueberry, while Pacifica went for what she always gets, the chocolate chip short stack.  Issei and I cleared our plates before Pacifica finished one of hers, and we decided to bring the leftovers home to Mai. There are still at least 12 different pancakes there for me to try, so will we be back? You bet.

Breakfast #8: Senor Moose

While driving around early one morning looking for a breakfast place, Pacifica and I stumbled upon Ballard's Senor Moose cafe. Though it was closed, we were intrigued by the name, and decided to add it to our list must-visit restaurants. In September, our visit to the Moose became a reality--and once again we were joined by our friends Liora and Howard for the monthly panacake jack and jill breakfast. This time, I even got to wear the crown I got for my birthday back in August (thanks Elizabeth!)

We arrived at the Moose promtly at 8:00, and the cafe was open, right on time. We hustled in doors and one of two window tables, with the girls deciding to get seats right next their respective dad's. The lovely scent of mixed spices, fat and eggs rolled through the air, and the waiter soon arrived with a set of menus for our party. I soon realized that choosing breakfast would be difficult...so many delicious sounding dishes! Carne de Puerco en Chile Verde or Hongos Ala Mexican? Enchiladas Rojas en Salse de Guajillo Chile, or Enchiladas Suzia?
Such choices! I had to drink a cup of coffee before I could decide.

Howard quickly noted the absence of pancakes on the menu, and the news was not taken well by our girls. However, we pointed out the fried plantaines, which the girls thought sounded great, so we wound up ordering a round, which arrived covered deliciously in cinnamon and sugar. They looked so wonderful we ordered another, and a side of scrambled eggs each for Pacifica and Liora. I think Howard took the Tortitas de Pap con Queso, a dish from Nayarit, which translates to three fried cakes of potato and cheese, topped with roasted poblano chiles and cream, s erved with green salsa, all for the low price of $8.95. I went with the similarly priced Michoacan dish of Sopas de Tinga, two masa cakes filled with shredded chicken (la tinga) topped with cream, and served with black beans (mmm, see photo below).

The food was, in a word, amazing. It was also filling, but we nevertheless ate everything on the plates except for some trace elements of scrambled egg and a black bean or two. I think that two orders of the plantains was a bit much for four people. The downside from our view was the absence of pancakes and a more robust kids menu. However, I am not letting that keep me from trying out the rest of the menu...I can't wait for our next trip down to the Moose.

Breakfast #7: Back to the Rooster's Den

In August, we returned to Rooster's on Phinney Ridge with a group of guest pancake and jack diners. Chris, Sylvia, Theo, Mai, and Issei were all keen on joining Pacifica and I, so we decided to take them to the most to the best restaurant within walking distance of Woodland Park Zoo.

Upon arrival, the first thing that I noticed was the proliferation of rooster drawings. Much like Beth's, Rooster's is now turning to patron crayon art for its wallpaper. Unlike Beth's, Rooster's customers are likely sober, which has an interesting impact on the art--the chickens on the walls at Rooster's are depicted as engaging in typical rooster behavior--strutting about a chicken run, munching on a worm, crowing at sunrise. In contrast, a typical chicken portrayed in Beth's gallery would probably be engaged in something illegal, immoral, or borderline... Interestingly, the quality of the art is about the same at both places.

With a table of seven, we put an obvious strain on Rooster's infrastructure, but there were enough boosters to go around, and the service came with a smile. This time, our food came out piping hot--albeit in two sets (apparently, there are not enough burners in the back to make seven seperate b'fast dishes). Writing this after some months have passed, I can't recall what I had, though I think it was some sort of Mediterranean scramble. Yummy.

All in all, the seven of us were well satisfied. The kids went to town on the whipped butter and syrup, soaking thier plates and filling their tummies with sugar and saturated fat. Afterwards, we walked down to Woodland Park, on the northern tip of the zoo, and played until it was time to bring Chris, Theo, and Sylvia to the airport, and for our kids to head home for a nap.

Breakfast #6: Better off Beth's

This past Sunday was an early one for us--both kids up before the chickens, and Pacifica and I were dressed in our breakfast finery and out the door at 6:30 a.m. Morning sure is beautiful in Seattle, and Pacifica and I were some of the few folks out looking for a bite to eat. Our first stop was the Caprice Cafe, which looked cute and open save for the "Kitchen Not Open" sign. Next we tried Senor Moose, which was dark and vacant. Ditto Shultzy's. We abandoned Ballard, and headed back up to Phinney Ridge, where we tried Mae's Phinney Ridge Cafe, again no luck. From the back seat, the little girl in the Cinderella dress was chanting "I'm HUNGRY" and sounding more like an ugly stepsister every minute.

I thought we might have to settle for I-Hop, but then remembered a Beth's Cafe, which always seemed to have long lines on Sundays, stretching up Aurora Avenue, and nearly to Butch's Gun shop. Incidentally, both Beth's and Butch's have been around for decades--their perseverance a testament to the economic magic of Aurora Avenue, and the natural human desire for handguns and chicken eggs 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

While Butch opens at a leisurely 10 a.m., Beth keeps the doors open all night long...and it shows. Walking, we caught the staff munching on breakfast (or dinner?) in ripped vinyl booths beneath dusty vents and off-colored tiles. There were a few patrons, but plenty of seats, and we chose a particularly nice (small rips only) booth near the window, where we could barely hear the traffic hurtle past on the highway. The walls were nicely decorated with the art of Beth's patrons, most suggesting the consumption of alcohol and other substances, and reminding me of the days before I learned to tie a necktie. The waitress brought us our own blank slate and cup full of crayons, plus a Hello Kitty coloring book just in case we weren't inspired.

I drank up my standard-diner coffee while Pacifica polished off her juice. (Note: I made the mistake of looking into the tin creamer pitcher after seasoning my coffee...putting it through the dishwasher a few decades ago would have done wonders on the yellow milkscum on the inside. Luckily, it is pasteurized) Though Beth's specialty, the 12-egg omelet, looked tempting, we both settled on basics: pancakes, eggs, and some meat. Pacifica went for the small stack, me for the tall; her for the scramble, me for the over easy; and she for the bacon and me for the fried ham.

We barely had time to draw a rainbow, and our food arrived, nice and hot. I was impressed by the lack of embellishments on Pacifica's pancakes--no funny faces or attempts to spruce it up; and who needs that anyway? Pacifica was happy to get a full carafe of whipped butter, and after dumping 1/4 cup of syrup on her 'cakes, dug right in. The food was standard--the cook did a nice job on the over-easy eggs, but burnt the ham little too much. Pacifica avoided her eggs and took one of mine, and commented on the chewiness of the bacon. We talked about why goats chew side to side, rather than up and down, and wondered why Greenlake is called green lake. I wondered about the sanitary problems posed by sweaty linecooks in sleeveless T-shirts, but kept it to myself lest we both lost our appetites.

Pacifica was hungry--it took a while, but she finished everything save for a quarter of a pancake, which the waitress nicely wrapped for us to take home. We were a bit disappointed to find out that they do not distribute candy to kids, so left without a sucker, mint, or kid toy. Nevertheless, we both agreed that the service was excellent--one of the friendliest places we have visited so far. I probably will not be back for the food anytime soon, unless I am partying late and need dozen-egg omelet around 2a.m....

Breakfast #5 - Posh-Nosh Pete's Egg Nest

This month Pacifica and I went for Pete's Eggnest, perhaps the most famous eggnest in our neck of the woods and smack-dab at the 1/2 way point from our house to the Woodland Park Zoo. We've biked past on enough weekend mornings to know better than to come at the regular brunch time--the lines are long and creep around the building to one of my favorite Greenwood coffee shops, Mekada Coffee -- so we arrived early, and took up seats right at the front counter, and didn't even have to ask to be seated.

Today Pacifica decided that she was Aurora, from Sleeping Beauty, and I was some odd prince that just happened to be driving her down there in the bike trailer, and kindly invited in to dine with her. A nice part of our seating was that we could be right next to each other, and talk about all the interesting things that there are to see on the other side. For example, pictures of Greece (luckily, Pacifica has been to Corfu, so she kind of has an idea that Greece exists somewhere, though why the pictures where pasted on the walls escaped explanation), artistically stacked up cups, and a color photocopy of a dog. It took a bit of time for the coffee to arrive, and there were no crayons or placemats to color, so we took it upon ourselves to do some doodling in Pacifica's sketchbook while we waited to place our orders. When the time finally came, Aurora went for the pancake and egg kids combo, and I for the eggs benedict. And, to top things off, I ordered a plate of sausages, because I felt manly, like a prince.

The food arrived soon enough, and we we dug right in. The first thing that I noticed was the temperature of the chorizo on my eggs benedict--cold, just like the sausages at Rooster's Breakfast Club. I suppose that is something Mr. Rooster learned from Chez Pete. Otherwise my dish was just fine, though I regretted ordering the extra plate of sausages, and ate one to appease my guilt. Pacifica dug into her pancakes, and did not seem to notice the absence of the egg we'd ordered...I guess when you have enough whipped butter and syrup, those details slip on by. She did eat a slice of what was apparently bacon, though it resembled lard-soaked pressed charcoal. I decided to leave the egg issue aside--Pacifica had enough food as it was (four pancakes!), and I had at least three extra sausages as it was.

Pacifica plowed through one pancake, and played with the rest. We opted out of taking anything home because, overall, we were a bit disappointed, and not something we'd care to munch on in the afternoon. On one hand, the food was pretty much what you would expect at a greasy spoon, but on the other, it was priced for the posh folks who live on Phinney Ridge prices, so shelling out $25 bucks made me feel a bit had. Pacifica walked out with a dum-dum sucker and a smile, and as the 4,000 calories started to slow my heart, we stumbled over to Makeda to revive me with a shot of espresso before the bike ride home.

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.