I’m in Nashville for a blogging conference, and after spending a couple of days networking with 500 other women bloggers and their laptops I’m craving a little peace and quiet. It’s all relative, however – and on the advice of friends in the know I find myself sneaking away at dawn in the company of my husband and our very cooperative 5-month-old baby to the Pancake Pantry, an unlikely mecca of all things hot, flat and syrup-covered.

After the hot conference rooms of the previous day, the sleety gray skies feel refreshing. At 6:30am we hotfoot (if using our GPS can be considered hotfooting) to the Hillsboro Village area near Vanderbilt University, hoping to beat the crowds that we are assured will be lining out Pantry’s door. We park and see others walking briskly toward the entrance, where a coffee cart sits. We hasten our steps automatically. There’s no great line yet, but the place is packed -– at just after 7am in a college town! We wait several minutes before and after being seated and belatedly realize the purpose of the outdoor coffee cart.

Once we sit and get some joe, we look at the entrance. A host of college students is packed into the space between the door and the hostess stand. We feel smug in our comfy booth. Blue vinyl seats, laminate table, cheap paneled walls, a tall older waitress, and a clattering kitchen in the background. It could be a 70s sitcom! My husband and I look over the menu. My husband has a distressing tendency to go for things labeled “low-fat sunrise”, but he sees my pleading eyes and orders a veggie omelet with a stack of buttermilk hotcakes. I go for the Swedish pancakes.

I read about the specialty flours and the house-made syrup and top-secret recipes. We talk. I toy with my ice water and am overjoyed to see pellet ice. I look at the college girls. I used to be super thin! I used to dress cute like that! I dab at spitup on my shoulder. I’m about to have a midlife crisis right there in the booth when our food arrives -- and cue the Hallelujah Chorus immediately, because I’m in pancake heaven.

The Swedish pancakes are eggy and light. Lingonberries are crushed into the butter and provide the perfect burst of tart-sweet mixed with the silkiness of butterfat. I eat and eat and then realize that I need to try what’s on my husband’s plate. Despite his protestations of beginning a low-carb lifestyle I notice that he’s left me just a small bit of omelet and about half of a pancake. I consume these with gusto. Lord have mercy, it’s the best buttermilk pancake I’ve ever had. I consider staying an extra night just so I can come back tomorrow for a full stack of my own. We can’t, of course – we have two more kids at home and a long drive back to Atlanta.

Hasta la vista, Pantry. I’ll be back another day. Possibly even at 6:30am.

The Pancake Pantry, 1796 21st Avenue South. (615) 383-9333