A peek into my crazy huge collection of L.A. matchbooks: The Original Pancake House
Our first foray into Orange County brings us to the Original Pancake House in Anaheim. Yes, I know there’s one in Redondo Beach, but it’s the Lincoln Avenue location that sticks closest to the recipes and ambience of the original Portland location. There, the goofy cartoon chef is rendered in three dimensional steel and looks like he might have once sported a neon smile even though the place is locked up hours before sunset. With endless apologies to Du-Par’s, this little chalet serves up my all-time favorite pancakes. From those tiny mouth-puckering sourdough silver dollars to the Dutch Baby, an outrageous soufflé-like bowl of thin eggy pancake served with lemon and powdered sugar, I’ve never seen such dramatic and delicious flapjacks. In fact, I’ve been told that only the oldest locations can get away with such exoticism, the newer ones tame it down. The last time I visited Portland I was overwhelmed with a mountain of fresh peaches and freshly whipped cream that would make Glendora’s Donut Man weep with shame. And I never even tried their Tahitian Maiden’s dream, filled with Triple Sec, sherry, and brandy, or the Danish Kijafa with Montmorency cherries and Kijafa sauce! Crazy! Crazy pancakes! Go tomorrow, they’re open until 2.