Tag Archives: pancakes

Cracker Barrel–Meridian, MS

We were passing through Meridian, MS and I had the fever for some pancakes. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better option than Cracker Barrel, but I really needed some pancakes. Where’s an IHOP when you need one?

For starters, the service was nice, but sluggish. It took forever to get my weaksauce coffee. It tasted like black water with sugar and cream. I like coffee that will bite you with authority. Maybe some with chickory.

The eggs were over easy, yet the whites were rubbery. The sausage was some of the saddest I’ve ever eaten. I would have been ashamed to serve that sausage to my dog. It tasted old and reheated. But I didn’t go for sausage. I wanted pancakes.

Remember the Three Stooges episode where they were trying to eat some vulcanized pancakes? When they were finally able to cut through and eat those delights, they started choking up feathers? Now you know what Cracker Barrel pancakes are like.

I’m convinced people don’t go to Cracker Barrel for their fine dining, it’s for the jelly jars and rocking chairs.

The Devil Really is in the Details

CC image courtesy of Will Scullin on Flickr.
CC image courtesy of Will Scullin on Flickr.

I get bored easily. I’m the kind of guy that wants minimum detail in a conversation so I can resume my daydreams of pancakes. You know those unnecessary details. They often accompany the phrase, “to make a long story short…” If you hear those words, the story is already too long.

I can’t help it. When a conversation starts, my brain checks out. It doesn’t matter who I’m talking to. “I’m sorry, Officer. Did you say I was smuggling elephants and chocolate bars?” His reply would be something like, “I said I’m writing you a citation for running a red light.” I would naturally respond with, “What does that have to do with elephants?” Now it’s time for the breathalyzer.

I have the attention span of an epileptic goldfish. Oh, and my hearing sucks. I have a tendency to repeat what I hear to confirm. What I hear always sounds preposterous. Heather may ask me to fold some laundry. I just heard that my wife shot up with a dirty needle. I didn’t even know she did drugs.

When I’m locked in an epic struggle, I can hear myself in my head. I’m always saying things like, “I sure hope they don’t notice that my eyes are glazed over,” or “I need to pick up some crackers at the store.” I affirm that I am engaged in the conversation by nodding my head. That head nodding trick works pretty well. If I’m found out…well, I just stumbled onto some conflict.

It’s not that I don’t want to listen. It’s just that I keep conversations concise. Minimal detail. More words mean more work expended. My brain can only handle so much.

I know that the details are extraneous. When I see a flower, I see a lovely yellow tulip receiving a Lilliputian hummingbird quaffing sweet nectar. I say, “Look, a tulip.” Then I start thinking about pancakes.




Coffee Pancake Dreams

(I wrote this last night about forty five minutes after my nightly dose of Ambien. I couldn’t figure out how to post it last night, but I’m impressed that I had the presence of mind to focus on pancakes).

I’m laying on the couch feeling like James Caan on Misery. Remember when he was hobbled by that crazy fan lady? I’ve been on my feet all day and most of last night.

In my arthritic haze I think about food. Who am I kidding? I always think about food. Chronic pain aside I’m thinking about pancakes. My ambien is making me feel a bit off but you need to try these coffee pancakes.


These pancakes are simply amazing.  Even my four year old loves them, but she already loves coffee ice cream.  I guess it’s not much of a stretch.  Besides, who doesn’t love pancakes?