I’d been wanting to try out Granny’s Kitchen since it re-opened under new management and could think of no better date than my sister. We spent a lot of time in our own Granny’s kitchen growing up, but we don’t get to spend much time together anymore. Even though we live just fifteen miles from each other, kids, husbands, boyfriends, parents, in-laws, work, work-outs, and blah-blah-blahs keep us apart most of the time. I asked my sister to meet me at Granny’s Kitchen on a Sunday morning. Alone.  Perhaps selfishly, I wanted it to be like old times, my sister and I together, eating pancakes in Granny’s Kitchen.

My sister never answers her phone when I call. Her phone is always lost somewhere in a diaper bag, scattered in pieces throughout her minivan, or under water because one of her boys tried to flush it down the toilet. That’s what she tells me anyway. But miracle of miracles, she found her phone and called at 8:20 to inform me that I was late for our Sunday morning breakfast date. I reminded her that I’d said 8:30, and that I still had ten minutes. I slid in the parking lot right on time (yay me!). We walked in together and chose a table. There was only one other table of diners when we arrived. I prefer booth seating, but there are no booths at the new Granny’s Kitchen. There are tables, and tables only. We picked a table, sat, and were greeted with menus and served drinks quickly. I hate nothing more than a wobbly restaurant table, but our table was not wobbly at all. It was perfectly stable. Please note: that condiment dispenser on the table that looks like it might be honey is not honey, it’s ketchup. Don’t put it in your coffee.

“You’re getting pancakes,” I told my sister.

“I’m not getting pancakes,” she said.

“You’re getting pancakes,” I said. “Please don’t ruin my Sunday morning breakfast at Granny’s Kitchen.”

“No. I am not getting pancakes,” she said.

We ate a lot of pancakes back in the day, on Sunday mornings, in our Granny M’s Kitchen. Golden, fluffy, buttery, syrupy pancakes – delicious if eaten in moderation, noxious if not. I spent my entire childhood thinking that my Granny M would die if I didn’t eat enough of her pancakes (I also thought that she would die if I kissed a boy). My sister didn’t think Granny would die if she didn’t enough of her pancakes, but she was afraid of hurting Granny’s feelings. So for our own reasons we’d each gorge ourselves miserable with pancakes on Sunday mornings. There is a special hell that can be accessed only by eating too many pancakes. But still, I miss those days like crazy. “I’m getting pancakes,” I said.

The new Granny’s Kitchen is not swank and not glamorous. I’ll call the decorating motif “rough hewn” and “unfinished”. That didn’t bother my sister and I. Granny M’s house wasn’t the poshest crib, but it was home and it was cozy, and I would say that’s how Granny’s Kitchen is. It is small. It is cozy.

I was a tiny bit cold. It’s a smallish place, and every opening of the door ushers in a chilly breeze.  One table of diners left and two tables came while we were there. My sister would say that she wasn’t cold at all and would say that I am cold all of the time and that I complain a lot. All true. But I would say this: if you go on a freezing cold day, and if you are prone to being cold like I am, don’t leave your scarf in the car. You might need it. Or sit as far away from the door as you can.

I placed my order for the stack of three pancakes and side of bacon and the waitress informed me that the pancakes at Granny’s Kitchen are made with cinnamon, which was just fine with me, though Granny M never used cinnamon. My sister ordered (traitorously) something with eggs and sausage and hash browns and toast. If you would like to see the Granny’s Kitchen menu, go here.

My sister is one of my favorite people in the world. Period. I love her. I appreciate every minute I get to spend with her, and waiting for our food gave us a chance to talk. We talked and laughed and laughed and talked. I will reiterate: Granny’s Kitchen is a small place. If you talk very loud (like I do) there is a chance that you will be overheard. So consider yourself warned and don’t be talking about your deepest secrets. Or, if you must talk about your deepest secrets, you better whisper. We weren’t talking about anything secret though, only my sister’s parenting issues and my dilemma over whether or not to spend the money to have my teeth professionally whitened.

Why do I need my teeth professionally whitened? Because, among other habits, I drink a lot of coffee and I drink it fast. The coffee at Granny’s Kitchen is perfect. The entire time my sister and I were talking and waiting for our food, my coffee cup was never less than half-full, and it was always the perfect temperature.

The service at Granny’s Kitchen was excellent. I give two thumbs up to our waitress with no hesitation. If you were the waitress at Granny’s Kitchen on the morning of Sunday, December 19th, you were wonderful, thank you. Our food was delivered timely, long before we ran out of things to talk about.

And what about the food?

The pancakes were marvelous. I could smell the cinnamon as soon as they were put in front of me. I use syrup only, no butter. I soaked all three in syrup and dug in.The cinnamon makes them so good. I highly recommend them. If you would like to know more about the health benefits of cinnamon click here. Granny’s pancakes are more cakey than some pancakes I’ve had. They’re almost like cinnamon coffee cake pancakes.  Really good cinnamon coffee cake pancakes, that’s how I’d describe them. My sister liked her food too, and gives it a good review. Our bill, for two good breakfasts was around seventeen dollars.

I was careful not to eat too much. Most Sundays at Granny M’s, after eating so many pancakes I could do nothing but splay myself out on the slipcovered sofa and watch reruns of The Rifleman while Granny M sat in her chair smoking Virginia Slims Menthols, not understanding the way I had just saved her life by eating so many pancakes. My sister would retreat to Granny’s bedroom to play “Church” and pound out her interpretation of hymnals on the organ. And she would sing. Loudly. I would yell at my sister to stop singing, and Granny M would yell at me to stop yelling at my sister. I really do miss those days, and every day I miss my Granny. But I had church to attend and my sister is a mommy and a wife, so she always has things to do. We paid the bill and went on about our day.

I recommend that you try Granny’s Kitchen. Take someone you love and think the world of but don’t get to spend enough time with. Enjoy your time with them. Get the pancakes.

In memory of Madaline Mikesell. We love and miss you every day, Granny M.