I was on a road trip recently, and as it does occasionally, my GPS took me the wrong way. Sometimes this can be frustrating – other times, it leads to new adventures or allows me to meet new people. On this particular morning, it was frustrating. I had an eight-o-clock appointment at a repair shop, and the man was working me into his schedule.
I turned into a parking lot to recalculate my route, entered the address on my cell phone, and was on my way. As I waited for passing cars, I noticed the sign on the building. “Hey, IHOP,” I said. IHOP has always been a special place for me. I made it to my appointment on time – five minutes early. Since I am rarely early for anything, I decided to treat myself for my promptness. I dropped the car off and considered walking back to IHOP for breakfast. I entered the address on my phone.
Walking to the restaurant would take fifteen minutes and another fifteen minutes to return. The man only needed my car for 30 to 45 minutes. His shop, and parking area, were full. So, I decided to wait. I was hungry and hoped it would be
closer to thirty minutes. I sat in the waiting area, where I watched the clock; never a good thing to do when you’re hungry.
Finally, the man came out to hand me the keys, “You’re all set to go.”
It only took forty minutes, but it seemed like a couple of hours. “That’s what you get for watching the clock,”
I told myself. I told the GPS to take me home. That route should have taken me by the IHOP, but it didn’t. Then I remembered the GPS got me lost coming in, so it was most likely taking a different route to go home.
Unfortunately, on the way in, I was more focused on getting to the shop on time and wasn’t paying attention to the route. I pulled to the side of the road and had the cell phone recalculate the route.
“How did I get three miles away from IHOP?” It didn’t matter how or why. I was hungry now and just wanted to get there.
The hostess led me to a booth and handed me a menu. “Katie will be along to take your order; can I get you something to drink?”
“A glass of water and decaf coffee, please.” A waitress rushed by with a big food tray; the hostess almost ran into her when she turned around.
While looking over the menu, the hostess returned with a glass of water, a carafe of coffee, and an IHOP cup. I poured myself a cup of coffee and continued browsing the menu; I began daydreaming about my first time at an IHOP. Soon, the same waitress carrying the full food tray came to my table. “Hi, I’m Katie; I’ll
be your server today,” She set a pot of coffee with an orange lid on my table and a clean cup.
I was confused. “The hostess already brought my coffee,” I told her.
“That’s regular coffee,” Katie said. “I thought I heard you tell her decaf.” Wow, this waitress is good. “Have you decided what you’d like, or do you need a few more minutes?”
Between being impressed that Katie caught the coffee error and daydreaming, I wasn’t ready to order. “Could I have a few more minutes, please?” I stared at the menu, but my mind wandered off in time.
In the early seventies, my brother Danny worked at the International House of Pancakes in Madison, Wisconsin – but he always called it IHOP, for short. Growing up in a large family, we didn’t go out to eat. On rare occasions, if one or two kids were out with Dad or Mom, they might treat them to a meal at a fastfood restaurant, but we did not go as a whole family. I couldn’t even imagine what it would cost my parents to take fifteen children (the youngest wasn’t born yet) to a restaurant.
One day, Danny told Dad and Mom he wanted to treat the family to breakfast at IHOP; the whole family and he was buying! That day I concluded my brother Dan must have been filthy rich! Dan had only one stipulation: “You’ll have to come at 10:30 after the breakfast rush but before lunch. That’s the only time we’ll be able to get enough tables put
(Just the Other Day cont’d on pg 4)
A Little Help
My wife and I had just finished dinner when I glanced out of the window toward the lake. Much to my surprise, I saw our canoe gliding across the smooth surface of the water heading toward the island. Wondering who might be fishing at this time of the evening, I looked through the spotting scope to check it out. Our son, Damon, was out there fishing all by himself. I told my wife; I should go see if he needed any help.
I grabbed two fishing rods that had lures on them, jumped in the Ranger, and drove down to the lake. Damon saw me coming and paddled over to the dock. He said he did indeed need some help fishing. I jumped in and Damon paddled us along the shore as I cast toward the weed beds. Each of my first five casts
produced a fish. It was amazing the way the bluegills and crappies were biting. I was using a small spinner bait with a yellow grub. My philosophy on fishing is; I do not care what I catch as long as I catch something. This was definitely my night. None of the fish I caught were big, but there were a lot of them. Damon uses mainly large buzz baits. He does not like to mess with bluegills or smaller crappies. He fishes mainly for big bass. He was catching a few bass in the twoto-three-pound range, but I was out-fishing him at about ten to one. My little yellow grub was beginning to look a bit worn when I cast near a submerged log. It was immediately smacked with a strong jerk. I set the hook and started
reeling. My ultralight rod bent over double. I fought the fish to the surface long enough for both of us to see it was a really big bass. When I would reach for it, it would dive under the canoe. The ultralight rod was too flexible for me to be able to control the fish. After several attempts, I gave up and worked it back toward Damon. I got it to the surface and Damon reached down to grab it by the mouth. The big fish rolled and dove again. This time, something gave way and my rod snapped back at me with no resistance. The big fish was gone. I checked my line to find the swivel that held my lure to the line had broken. Even Damon, who is not prone to exaggerating the size of someone else’s fish said it was at least five or six pounds. I was not too upset since we did get to see the beautiful
fish and I was not planning to keep it anyway. Damon tried several casts in the same area hoping to get the big old fish to bite again. I think it went back to hide under its log and work on getting a small annoying lure out of its mouth. He did manage to catch another good-sized bass, but it was about half the size of the one I lost. Since I had no extra lures with me, I switched to my other rod. It had a small minnow looking plastic bait that worked, just not as well as my yellow grub. It was getting dark when we decided to call it a night. We both caught a few more fish as Damon paddled us slowly back toward the dock. I would say my fishing trip was a major success. Damon was also pleased, though a bit envious. I was just happy I could help on his fishing excursion.
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(Just the Other Day cont’d from pg 2)
together to seat everyone.”
Katie returned to the table, and I still wasn’t ready. (Focus Tom, focus.) The third time she came back, I still wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t going to make her return; she was busy. “Do you have a breakfast combo with two eggs, two strips of bacon, and a short stack (three) of pancakes?”
Katie pointed to an item on the menu, “This is what you want, but it only comes with two pancakes. You could order an extra cake.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “Two will be fine. I’d like the eggs over easy and a side of wheat toast.” I closed the menu and smiled, “I have to have toast with my eggs.”
“I’ll get your order in,” she said. “Is maple syrup okay?”
“Can I get the full variety of syrups?” Katie said that would be no problem. I pushed the carafe and cup of regular coffee to the side. Then, poured a fresh cup of decaf. I smelled the steam coming from the cup and took a sip. It is incredible how powerful smells can be. I recalled the restaurant smelling like coffee when Danny treated us to breakfast at IHOP. I liked the aroma and allowed my mind to wander off again, back to Madison.
Danny had a long row of tables put together. There were two high chairs for the youngest kids and two brown booster seats. I’d never seen a booster seat. If you couldn’t reach the table at home, you sat on your knees.
Three ladies came to the table handing out glasses of water. “We have milk, chocolate milk, orange, apple, or grape juice.” Chocolate milk with breakfast? That’s gross, I thought. They gave each of us a menu.
Danny came out from the kitchen. “You can order any combo from the breakfast menu,” he said, “The younger kids order from the kids’ menu.” I had already looked at that part of the menu. The kid meals only came with one pancake or a waffle. I asked Danny if I could get three pancakes. “That’s fine,” he said, “You’re not one of the little kids; get the short stack.” Danny disappeared into the kitchen, and the waitresses started taking orders. They wrote everything down.
I ordered the combo with two eggs, bacon, and two pancakes. “How do you want your eggs,” she asked me. What do you mean, ‘How do I want my eggs?’ Mom scrambled the eggs at home, made them sunny side up, or put the lid on the electric skillet to baste them. But Mom’s eggs were all
cooked the same, and the younger kids only got one egg.
“Just regular,” I replied. The waitress asked what regular meant. “Not scrambled,” I said, “just regular.” At that time, I didn’t know what they called them. Mom spoke up, ‘Sunny side up for him.’ Then I asked the waitress, “Can I get three pancakes?”
“The combo meals come with two pancakes,” she said. “You could get the short stack instead.” The short stack had three pancakes but no bacon or eggs.
“That’s okay,” I told the waitress. “Two pancakes will be enough.” The waitress asked my name, then moved on to my sister beside me.
After placing their order, the waitress brought out several carousels with small syrup containers. I was impressed. At this point in life, I had
no idea there were other flavored syrups. I only knew about maple, and we made it at home.
The wait staff came back with trays full of plates of food. I was expecting all the bacon, eggs, and pancakes to be on platters, and we’d pass them around the table like we did at home. Instead, the waitress would call out a name and hand out the plates. “Tommy?” I raised my hand, and she set a plate of food before me.
I looked at my plate; it had three pancakes. I looked around the table, smiled, and kept quiet as all the other plates only had two.
I was glad to have three; I love pancakes and was already an accomplished pancake maker. I’d never had a restaurant pancake before. I couldn’t wait to see if IHOPs were as good as Mom’s recipe that she taught me to make.
Usually, I would pour a lot of syrup on my pancakes. “That’s enough,” Dad would say to me. “Syrup is a flavoring, not an entrée.” But, on that day, I only poured a small amount of syrup at a time. I wanted to try all the flavors, and I did. I really liked the strawberry, blueberry, boysenberry, and butter pecan, but maple was still my favorite.
Danny came out from the kitchen with a plate and sat down to join the family. He was very proud of his family.
I still think IHOP has the best buttermilk pancakes of any restaurant, but they’re not as good as Mom’s recipe. However, the first time I ate out with my whole family, I swear the pancakes were every bit as good as Moms. But of course, Danny made them, and I’m sure he used Mom’s recipe in the IHOP kitchen that day.
Katie disrupted my daze setting my plate on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“This should do it,” I said, smiling because three pancakes were on my plate. I ate my eggs, toast, and bacon, then moved on to the short stack. I tried and liked
each syrup – but maple is still my favorite.
After breakfast, I sat in the booth, enjoying my coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug, and looking at the IHOP logo. The cup was warm, but not as warm as those beautiful memories from the day Danny treated the family to breakfast.
Katie returned to the table. I asked, “Do you sell your coffee cups?” She said they did not.
Katie’s section had pretty much cleared out, and she wasn’t so busy. So, I told Katie the story about the first time I went out to eat with my whole family. How my brother worked at IHOP and treated my big family to breakfast. “He was cooking in the kitchen that day,” I remembered fondly. “I wanted to buy a cup for him.”
Katie asked, “How were your pancakes today?”
“They were excellent, and there were three pancakes on my plate,” I said, “but not quite as good as when Danny was working the grill that day.” We shared a good laugh about that.
“I don’t know anything about that extra pancake,” Katie smiled, then set my ticket on the table, “I’ll come back for that whenever you’re ready.” I went ahead and handed her my card. She put it in her apron pocket, then gathered my dishes, including the other cup and pot of regular coffee.
Katie returned with my card and ticket. I filled in the tip, thanked her for the excellent service, and signed the merchant copy. I drank the last swallow of my decaf, then slid the coffee cup toward her. She pushed the cup back to me. “Go ahead and take it with you.”
I walked out with my cup, smiling. Katie said she didn’t know anything about that extra pancake on my plate, and I didn’t know anything about that extra twenty on the table. I left feeling really good.
Thank you again for breakfast, Danny, and Happy Father’s Day.