Sunday

I ate a nice breakfast at the Original Pancake House* before roller derby yesterday. Sunshine had been trying to get me into this little breakfast eatery for months now. I used to eat at greasy spoon-type establishments often, but after the fresher, healthier food I became accustomed to in México, I've been having trouble redeveloping my taste for things like oily potato wedges and loose, milky, yellow eggs. This has mostly been no problem since I rarely find myself awake in time for breakfast anyway. The Original Pancake House is the other kind of breakfast place, quite to opposite of a greasy spoon: a squeaky clean family affair franchise with a menu ninety percent devoted to whipped cream and fruit breakfast confections dusted with powdered sugar. I ordered off the other ten percent of the menu and it was pretty good. I had spinach crepes containing just a hint of aged cheddar cheese sauce. There were potato pancakes on the side--hash browns mashed into a patty, basically--and these were served with apple sauce, which is only natural according to Sunshine. I do not, apparently, know a great deal about the meal of breakfast. Mom had an omelet that was, without exaggeration, the size of a steering wheel. Sunshine had something called a "Dutch Baby," which is basically a vitamin-packed strawberry fruit salad in a delicately upturned pancake bowl accompanied by little pots containing butter, lemon, and settling puff of confectioner's sugar. Lemon? Today's breakfast was much more in accordance with what I'm used to: it was actually lunch. We ate at the Lost Dog Café* where I had a melted cheese sandwich with basil on pita with a bowl of gazpacho. This meal was comfortably devoid of applesauce or anything else odd or unnatural to me. [Cavin]