The first time my dear wife Karen and I snuck away from Syracuse to Cape Cod, she told me that Julie and Lisa said we should have breakfast at The Pancake Man.
I loved the suggestion as soon as we pulled into the parking lot.
Every single thing that unfolded inside the doors backed up the campy sign on the wall.
The coffee was delivered quickly, refilled without question, hot, not too strong, not too weak, and always with enough little creamers for me at its side.
A good name and a good logo is to be celebrated, and these folks know it.
After you order, you can go up and take a look at the variety of shirts available to take home and advertise The Pancake Man were you live.
Then came the food.
I went for the combo of two eggs, over medium, two thick strips of bacon, two sausage links and three buttermilk pancakes.
Karen went for pancakes and a fruit cup.
The brunchie time of day and mountainous amount of food allowed this to serve as our breakfast and lunch.
This third day we woke up not in Syracuse was off to a very nice start.
Lovers of our routine, we headed to the Chatham pier to see if our friends the seals were out to play.
One guy cavorted for our entertainment, but only for a minute. A white bird was at his side.
Soon after, the fishing boat that had been delivering its catch to be sold at the market at the pier pulled back out to set down anchor. It pulled its little skiff and a last crew of two puttered back in.
Karen figured that the seals knew that no more fish would slip into the water accidentally or on purpose, and that’s why they’d gone back to wherever they prefer to hang out when not dining or flipping for human eyes at the Chatham Pier.
This market sells seafood. Above sits houses and resorts for people I figure to have plenty of financial resources.
It is quite a lovely picture from the seal-watching pier. I wondered if the affluent ever take a minute to watch the likes of me from their patios.
Karen and I walked the length of the shop-filled village, one side up, the other back.
I rather liked the statement one tote bag made for Karen.
She smiled, but said that she did not need it for $28, so my hand stayed out of my pocket.
As for me, I rather related to a plaque about how dogs roll.
It reminded me of Ellie B, aka Dogamous Pyle, not to mention our dearly departed Lissa and my Dog No. 1, Taffy.
It came on a magnet, too.
Karen liked another saying, though. It read: “Don’t trust a dog to watch your food. — Liam, age 6” That will go on our fridge upon our return home.
When we crossed the street, it was time for a beverage.
Karen went for a cold bottle of water, but I wanted something with some taste. My first choice was unsweetened iced tea, but no go. No sugar-free anything, or diet soda. Yup, health food-type place, I saw. I spotted a juice, a brand I’d not seen in Syracuse, but it looked tasty and said “No Sugar Added.”
I took one sip, and felt like I’d taken a bite of half a chocolate-frosted, custard-filled donut, back before that day in 1999 my doctor told me I had diabetes.
I turned the bottle around, and did what I should have before I bought the darn juice.
Next to sugar: 29 grams.
Karen swiped it out of my hands and handed me the bottle of water. I love my wife so much.
She read further and saw that the serving size said “about two.” If I had continued to drink, I could have been walloped with 58 grams of sugar, the way I gulp, in a minute. Not good.
My bad, sure. But I do think the no-sugar-added claim is a tad misleading for us sugar-avoiders.
Karen only took a few sips herself. Disgusted at the company, she handed it back to me to find a disposal spot as we walked back to the car to return to the cottage.
We took Ellie B on a long walk so I could get rid of more of those brunch carbs.
We wanted to add a new dimension in this year four to our cottage adventures, so we decided to dine at the Oyster Company. Karen tried to eat dinner at this interesting-looking restaurant just a mile from the cottage the year she also came here on her girls-only week, but they left when told there was a two-hour wait.
Last night, we were immediately given our table for two, but noticed a few moments and seated parties later that all tables were taken.
After a good read of the menu, I asked our waitress if I could modify one of the entrees. I wondered if I could get the Cioppino with the lobster tails and shrimp only, leaving the scallops, mussels and littleneck clams behind. After a check with the chef, she returned and asked that the chef would like to know if I would like more lobster and shrimp instead.
Karen, meanwhile, decided that the oven-baked cod would do her well indeed.
We dug in.
I allowed her tastes of lobster and shrimp and linguini, and my dear wife Karen swooned.
Our wonderful waitress had told me when she set down my plate that she often orders the Cioppino but on a bed of spinach instead of the linguini.
The lightly garlic-butter-and-oiled linguini was so good I wondered why.
But Karen’s cod was sided with spinach and risotto, and I tasted both. Loved both. And as our waitress passed us by, I told her I totally understood how good the Cioppino would taste on a bed of this place’s spinach.
I also finally found my unsweetened iced tea, and Karen did not have to share her water.
We were so full, the waitress could not tempt us with a list of delicious-sounding desserts, although Karen did read it carefully.
On our way to the door, I had to take this shot.
I like The Oyster Company’s food, wait staff and style.
What kind of T-shirt do you have that reminds you of The Pancake Man’s camp? What do you think about Naked’s No Sugar Added brand of juice advertising? Would you have a better story about seal sightings or shop strollings? What has been your very favorite seafood meal, and where did you get it?