A Look at a International House of Pancakes in South Florida

When I was a boy, one of my favorite occasions was when Mom would say, out of the blue, that she didn't feel like cooking and that we were going to the International House of Pancakes. In those days my older sister was either going out on dates or with her friends when she wasn't cracking the books studying to be a Licensed Practical Nurse, so normally it was a mother-and-son drive to the IHOP near Coral Way (SW 24th Street) and 87th Avenue in Westchester (a suburb of Miami).

We loved going to IHOP for various reasons: Mom cooked all the time - and liked doing so - but every so often she tired of the "same old, same old." Sometimes she'd send me to the nearby McDonald's on foot as a trust-building exercise in allowing me to run errands and get over my fears of getting run over by a car, but she knew a diet of hamburgers and French fries wasn't exactly healthy. She also knew I was crazy about breakfast foods, especially pancakes and French toast, so every so often she'd tell me to get in the car because we were going to IHOP for dinner.

This year, my birthday was on a Saturday, and because my mom had had a minor surgical proceedure the previous day, she really didn't feel very much like cooking at all. My sister had the day off as well, so after she did some errands and work-related paperwork (she is now a registered nurse and visits elderly patients at home), she picked us up at five in the afternoon and drove us the 30 blocks from our house to the same IHOP on Coral Way and SW 87th Avenue.

Ambiance: Because we were there for the early dinner hour (and on a Saturday), the restaurant was not packed. Far from it. Only three or four tables had customers, although one did have a five-member family which consisted of a young Latin couple, two active boys under the age of 10, and a baby cradled comfortably in a baby stroller. The decor - which used to be more homey and colorful - was drab and utilitarian, almost Spartan. We sat on Table 12, which was located away from the windows; good thing, too, because the setting sun flooded through the westward facing glass panes and I'd left my Transitions glasses at home.