I miss a southern breakfast. I went to the LA Cafe this morning to check out their breakfast. At first glance the place looked OK. Bad curtains, fake flours, smooth jazz. I was suspicious because I was the only one there at 9:00 AM on a Sunday, but I thought maybe everyone was at church. Plus, Los Alamos is a small town, so I wasn't going to hold a lack of business against them. Then I saw the menu. Small. No steak and eggs. Only a three kinds of pancakes. A few omelets and the obligatory New Mexico breakfast barritto. I'll note that the best breakfast burritos on the face of the planet are found at a shack called Chile Works a few blocks away. Plus, at Chili Works, you can get your burrito for $4.60 and even buy some meth. Nothing at the LA Cafe was less than 8:00. That's right, with tip it cost me $11 for three floury pancakes and four strips of bacon. I didn't even want the bacon because I don't often eat meat anymore, but there were no grits or fruit on the menu. How can you have a breakfast joint without bacon?
This time of year in Florida I can go to Kissin' Cousins and get three big, fluffy, perfect pancakes, fresh squeezed orange juice, an egg, and thick, buttery grits for $7.00 with tip. The thing I miss the most is the pancake. I can make the kind of pancakes I ate this morning: floury, almost light but not quite, misshapen and entirely boring and disappointing. I gave up on making great pancakes after spending an entire morning and afternoon making every variation possible. I came to the conclusion that it's best left to professionals with huge, hot, seasoned griddles and forty year-old recipes. Kissin' Cousins delivered the finest pancakes in town. I miss them.
Needless to say, I'll never go back to LA Cafe.
