The Original Pancake House was founded in Portland, Oregon in 1953. Their full history is detailed on their website, found here. My personal observation is this. What better food to satisfy the lumberjack hunger of the Pacific Northwest than a heart plate of flapjacks? The Seattle location is what sparked our desire for this project one cold January morning, so it was natural that this would be the first place we would document as we built up for our national tour.

As you arrive at The Original Pancake House, you’re greeted in a long enclosed porch, complete with benches lining the walls and a table filled with coffee, water, and their amazing apple pancake, cut into wedges. Enjoy them while you wait for a table — on the weekends it’s always busy, and they won’t seat you if your full party isn’t there yet. It could take anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes to get a table. I’m told by staff that their busiest days are Mother’s Day and New Year’s Day, so plan accordingly.

The first thing you will notice when you go inside is the size of the establishment. This is no little mom and pop diner, and I can only imagine how big the griddles in their kitchen must be to accommodate this kind of crowd. The second thing that catches the eye is the honey blonde pine paneling, with a top rail decorated by a vast assortment of decorative plates. It feels like the biggest grandma’s dining room in the world. You’re seated at a matching pine table with a condiment tray that’s stocked with steak sauce and three kinds of hot sauce, as if to let you know that they serve more than just pancakes. The coffee, if you order it (you probably should, just to balance the sweetness of the impending breakfast), comes in sturdy white ceramic mugs you could probably beat a moose to death with. This place is not dainty. But they are kid-friendly. The old mug full of crayons is proof of that.

Upon examining the extensive menu, it’s hard to look past the largest list of pancakes you can imagine. Coconut, sourdough, buckwheat, giant ’49ers, buttermilk, potato, Swedish, baked Dutch pancakes like the apple monstrosity viewed in the waiting area, and bacon pancakes (yes, bacon in a pancake. Madness!), all assail your eye. Likewise, crepes, waffles, French toast, huge, fluffy omelets (almost more of a frittata once you see one), and the mind simply reels.

Our waitress says that the sourdough and the potato are the most popular, but she’s quite taken with the banana pancakes as well. By virtual coincidence, that’s what we order, as well as a cherry kijafa crepes and an assortment of side dishes (potatoes, bacon, eggs). All pancakes are available in a half-order, and it’s worth considering if you’re not a big-appetite person. Of the four of us, I was the only one to clear a plate, and I had the less intimidating potato pancakes.

So I know you’re wondering. How was it?

Potato Pancakes — more potato than pancake, they were not unlike fine-grained hashbrowns with just enough batter to qualify them as pancakes. Served with applesauce and sour cream on the side, they were very thin and lovely to look at. The chef at the table compared them to latkes, and The Girl commented “Why am I eating anything other than this, ever?” Personally, I’m not a huge fan of potato pancakes, but felt I needed to make sure the popular house dishes were represented, and even I found them sublime. Not too sweet, not too heavy, they were a delight.

Sourdough Pancakes — These had lovely, full flavor, a nice thickness and a pleasant, almost-chewy consistency. Flavor-wise, there was no doubt that they were sourdough and not buttermilk. The plate was smothered with them, and if I were to order them, I’d probably make do with a half-order and a side of meat.

Banana Pancakes — My photographer’s eyes rolled back in his head when he tasted them. He felt that while the batter was un-inspired, the banana was wonderfully ripe, so that they only needed the barest touch of maple syrup to kind of tie the whole plate together.

Cherry Kijafta Crepes — The crepe was definitely an American crepe…not as egg-y and sweeter than a true European crepe. I found them very similar to what my mom made growing up — what my father called “slimy pancakes.” They were a good base for the tart cherry sauce, made with whole sour cherries, and not from a can. The foodie would have liked them less sweet. I could have done with a touch less sweetness as well, but with a black coffee, it would cut that down a bit.

A final note, the fresh-squeezed orange juice might have had a bit of tangerine in it based on the color and flavor. Whatever the cause, it made the juice wonderful. The coffee, on the other hand, was a bit darker and more bitter than I usually take it, and I’m a fan of dark roasts. Perfectly serviceable with cream, it’s not coffee I’d go out of my way for.