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The Pancake Pantry
628 Parkway, Gatlinburg
436-4724

by Les DuLunch

Ah, the first summer of the 21st century is almost at an end. And as we take stock, what have we learned? That flip-flops and three-quarter-length clothing of any kind weren't very good ideas. That Britney Spears really did do it again-continued to woo the nation with her teenage temptress act while singing the same song for now a third consecutive time. And that our presidential race might be better titled Scylla and Charybdis 2000.

But, before summer's dog days fade completely away, here's some knowledge that might actually prove useful. Pay attention; I'm giving away one of my best secrets.

It's Saturday morning. Windows reveal a hazy and humid world; the crisper air of fall is still a few weeks away. You know it's going to be an unbearably hot one, and the river is calling your name. No, not the slow-rolling Tennessee. Something cooler, more refreshing is needed. Off and away to the Great Smoky Mountains you must go.

Now, if you're departing early, brunch will be on your mind. There's no point in exploring the great outdoors on an empty stomach. And, in fact, you should time the trip to include a stop at Gatlinburg's Pancake Pantry.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Tourist traps are always full of pancake houses, buffets, and other eating establishments that appeal to the lazy of body and mind. But the Pancake Pantry is different. Really. It's like the mold from which all other pancake houses were made—and in rather poor imitation.

Like most pantries, it is incredibly well stocked, offering more varieties of pancakes than you can shake a hiking stick at. All prices hover in the remarkably reasonable $5 to $8 range, so there's no need to fear typical tourist-industry price gouging. Located slap-dab in the middle of town in the genuinely charming Village shopping center, the Pancake Pantry is home to the lightest, moistest and fluffiest pancakes known to humankind. Traditional buttermilk, small silver-dollar sized, whole wheat, potato, ricotta-stuffed blintzes, delicate crepes. Get them plain and smother them in one of the homemade syrups or get them done up a in dramatic style, like the Austrian apple walnut, which is covered in a rich apple cider compote made with real butter, black walnuts, apples, and sweet spices, then topped with powdered sugar and whipped cream. On a train, in a plane, on a boat, with a goat...

Of course, there are also ordinary breakfast foods like eggs and ham, but don't be stupid and order them. Not that there's anything wrong with the Pancake Pantry's versions, but when opportunity knocks, you need to answer the door. After all, where else in the world are you likely to find heavenly apricot lemon pancakes? Even the comparatively plain blueberry, swimming in syrup with plump, soaked blueberries, is transcendent.

If you've arrived more on the lunch side of brunch, you'll be greeted by an earthenware jug of sliced cucumbers and onions soaking in a creamy milk-based sauce that's similar to ranch dressing, but the taste is subtler and the consistency thinner. Cool, crisp, and absolutely delicious. Ask for an order of the crunchy, thick-sliced homemade potato chips and you've got all you could ever ask for in an appetizer.

The sandwich selections are nicely sophisticated. My personal favorite is the British Dipper, which is sort of a giant patty melt sans onions on light rye, divided into thirds, and served with a side of sliced cucumbers and a fluffy horseradish dip that's refreshingly tangy.

The Pancake Pantry is also right around the corner from the Donut Friar, which offers quite simply the world's best cake donuts. They're fried barely to the point of crisping around the center, but are still moist enough inside to ball up like Wonder bread. Get a box to go for tomorrow morning.

Now, with brunch out of the way, you're ready for some serious Saturday afternoon sun-soaked lolling about. Just past the hairpin turn above the Chimneys campground area, start looking for a small pullover parking area on the left-hand side. That's your destination for a little off-the-beaten-path exploration. Once there, trot across the road, part the thick vegetation, and follow an informal path down to the river for a dip.

Take a six-pack and keep it cool underwater; there's no need for clunky coolers, just remember not to leave your bottles behind. (A note to the tiresomely literal: I'm not in any way advocating the illegal act of drinking alcohol in the National Park. I'm simply advocating not getting caught.) If you're planning a romantic interlude, know that shrinkage will be a factor, so skinny-dipping might not be quite the right recipe for some al fresco action. Otherwise, take to the water any way you want, just be prepared for the deliciously breathtaking shock of icy cold, crystal clear water when you break the surface.

There you have it. The ideal recipe for the final fling of summer. Dive in.
 

September 7, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 36
© 2000 Metro Pulse