(In hindsight, it turns out this day was our first date.)
Here's the thing about pancakes: I'm really fussy about them. A good pancake is fluffy, but not dry, but not greasy; sustaining but not heavy. It should not need syrup or other accoutrements, but should still be well complimented by a drizzle of maple, a pat of butter, or a portion of berry coulis. And the pancakes above did. Perfection.
It was likewise a risk on my part ordering chocolate pancakes, as my rules governing chocolate are quite specific as well: it should never be grainy, or crumbly, or be melted to the point that it resembles nuclear waste. It should appear to hold its shape, but yield upon contact, becoming a gloriously oozing mess as your knife and fork pass through. It should be perfectly smooth, and creamy. It does not need to be bittersweet. I suspect that it may well be somewhat anathema to foodie wisdom to suggest that milk chocolate has as much merit as its dark counterpart, but Gosh damn, it does. I don't think it makes me a philistine to say that sometimes I just like milk chocolate better.
As for the animated shenanigans you watched us get up to there, here's the fruits of our labour:
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