Griddle me this.

Breakfast and me go way back. To the days when I sat at the kitchen table, my kid Corgi-legs dangling from the chair in footie pj’s, my hair cowlicked and fancy free, the sun barely visible over the horizon, with the promise of Saturday morning cartoons, digging a spoon into a big bowl of Raisin Bran. (I’m pretty sure it had more sugar back then).

Flash forward to the present. If I still had footie pj’s, I’d roll out of bed and shuffle over to Griddle Cafe every morning in them. It’s like breakfast heaven. With a huge menu featuring their Banana Nana Pancakes, Kicking and Screaming Breakfast Tacos and Peanut Bubba French Toast – all the size of your head.

Don’t go there to be good, or get a salad or God forbid share. No. Shamelessly indulge. Face the regret like a man. Or a lady man. Order the Mom’s French Toast for yourself. And don’t let anyone even think about touching it…

Food images by Muy Yum

4 thoughts on “Griddle me this.

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