I am really hoping that pancake breakfast at my old high school starts when we come home for Derek's birthday. I missed last year and I really don't think I can miss another year. Those mouth watering blueberry pancakes with fresh Ohio maple syrup would make me drive six hours just for a bite. I have memories of pancake breakfasts going back as long as I can remember. There were the days that my grandma would dish out the yummy pancakes with the optional side of sausage. Then it was my turn to earn some money for the marching band doing dishes behind the scenes. Now I make it back for the big event every other year or so to see some old high school friends sitting with their families and their dixie cups of orange juice. Besides my friends and family it is probably the only thing I miss about that town.
We attempted a pancake breakfast here in Chicago. The local middle school was trying to make some money for some sports team or something of that nature. The first major difference was the lack of a line winding down the hallways and out the door, we walked right in. The tables were not packed, family style, with friends who hadn't seen each other in what seemed like ages. In fact, there may have only been four or five other families there. There was no one to serve us three thick pancakes, and no sign to hold up when we were out of coffee or wanted a second serving. We actually had to get up and make our way through the buffet of Jimmy Dean sausage links, flat Bisquik pancakes and Aunt Jamima "flavored" maple syrup (more like sugar and water if you ask me). No one came by to talk to us, ask us how we have been, ask where Grandma and Pappy where this fair season, not even a "hi" or "hello". Needless to say it was not what we expected. Nothing can beat the good ol' high school pancake breakfast.
Here is my sad attempt at pancake breakfast, a little better than Chicago style but not as good as the Betty Patton Room.