Any food establishment with the word "factory" in its name should be approached with caution and an empty stomach. Too bad for us this was the third diner of the day.We had high aspirations: three different kinds of pancakes, a pancake wrap, and moussaka. But reality guided our decisions and we only ordered two plates of pancakes. Pancake stack numero uno was meat pancakes. Maple-syrup-drenched hot cakes with bacon bits = perfect marriage of sweet and savory. The other pancakes we ordered were Honky Tonk pancakes. These flapjacks were studded with peanut butter chips and topped with fresh banana and a dusting of powdered s
ugar. To add insult to injury, both stacks were served with butter that looked like it had been measured with a full ice cream scoop. We proceeded to use all the butter on the pancakes as any good American would.
Try as we might, we couldn't finish. Tears ran down our faces, there was sobbing and failing, but when we saw a morbidly obese man at the counter going to town on his food, we knew we had done the right thing.
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