Having sworn myself off of boyfriends/dating/men in general for the time being (purely and simply, I’m too busy for all that lark, and quite enjoy being self centered if I’m totally honest), and having successfully done this for the last six months. Enter a mere two emails from MM one spring afternoon and I find myself not only set up to go on a date, but a blind date at that, and with a man from Truro which is three hundred miles from my actual home in the South East. Furthermore, all I know about him is that his surname rhymes with mine.
…Well alright then.
My date’s name: Joss Price
Venue: Willie Dynamite’s American Diner (cue an appearance from Cilla Black and a cheesy game show tune.)
That, at least, had been the plan. The girls in the office had suggested a breakfast date at this funky little American style diner complete with retro booths, coffee re-fills and, most excitingly, a jukebox. When we arrive however, to my intense disappointment, the yankee diner has moved out of town. They promised me a jukebox. I feel so let down.
Not to worry though. Being quite the Falmouth connoisseur, it so happens that there’s a cute looking pancake house in the high street called The Pancake House (does what it says on the tin really) that I’ve wanted to try out. As the charming Joss either likes the sound of it or I’ve scared him into agreeing, I steer us towards the tiny little treat trove. Tiny is not an exaggeration – seating does involve some element of musical chairs
It’s always a good feeling when you’re deep in conversation and forget to make your choice from the menu, and I suppose that meant we have kind of put the waitress’s outstanding efficiency to waste. Whilst Joss opts for a sweet and sticky banana and caramel pancake, (a dish at least partially made up of some fruit. What a good lad.) I have apparently come to the conclusion that if chocolate isn’t in bar form, it counts as an acceptable brekkie accompaniment. I’ve chosen to forget the fact that it’s enveloped in fried batter – which was perfectly squidgey yet fluffy – and topped with squirty cream. An hour is whiled away while we talk family crooks (so much you don’t know…), business ventures and exactly what the deal is with Cornish pasties (Joss doesn’t get why they’re such a widespread hit, and I have pretty clear ideas why they are. An argument for another feature I reckon). Pancakes are scoffed until we’re full to bursting. My date has managed one, I manage one and a half. I win. The nice waitress does offer to box up the leftovers for us but as we’re both off adventuring for the rest of the day, the grub is in danger of suffering some serious squashy bag syndrome, so we must decline.
For those who manage to maintain nerves of steel when out on a date/are not on a date/are just on a munch mission, they also offer a simple lunch time menu of the jacket and sarnie variety. But with the hefty list of various sweet and savoury things to stuff in your crepe, or the option of an all day breakfast, I doubt that a standard sandwich is what anyone comes here for to be honest. The whole menu is pretty cheap and cheerful. Not that I checked prices afterwards as I very kindly had my pancakes paid for. I would never look. I am a lady. Ahem.
As far as The Pancake House, Falmouth goes for Great Date Expectations… do it! Take your date for breakfast, take them for brunch, take them for pudding. Sweeten them up with a pancake and you can’t go wrong. I give it a definitive thumbs up. Even if we did have a jukebox snatched from our midst.