Last weekend, Ben and I were stumped as to how to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day.  My gift was lost in Package Limbo, and all I had gotten for Ben were some Twilight-themed chocolates in a heart-shaped box.  Then, as so often happens, it was NPR to the rescue.

Specifically, it was Food for Thought, which was baby-themed for V Day.  One of the foods cited in this celebration of that term of endearment was a Dutch Baby, a type of pancake that can be found at the Original Pancake House.  I was intrigued, and, knowing how much Ben loves breakfast, began to set my plan in motion.

Since my gift was decidedly uncool, I decided that the rest of my gift would be to make a list of options from which Ben could choose as ways to spend our Sunday together.  (One of our biggest troubles seems to be getting out of the dinner-and-a-movie rut…also, making decisions.)  I included the Original Pancake House, the Crab Pot, P.F. Chang’s, and a variety of theatre/museum/film options.  (Okay, so this is obviously not a major step away from our normal weekend routine, but since all of them required driving to Seattle, it was a step in the correct direction.)  Stuck on the ship on Saturday duty, I emailed him the list.

He chose pancakes, and a stop by a market to get fresh seafood.

Arriving home early Sunday morning, I used the powers of Internet and found the nearest Original Pancake House.  There’s one in Ballard, in the northern part of Seattle, across the 5 from the University district.  In a flash of pure brilliance, I recalled the existence of the Ballard Farmer’s Market, and with some savvy Googling found it was five minutes from our chosen restaurant.  In a few mouse clicks, I had not only found a way to justify driving 45 minutes for pancakes but also obviated the need to drive to downtown Seattle, pay for parking, and battle the Pike Place crowds.

The Original Pancake House is everything that other pancake houses aspire to be: hip, crowded, and delicious.  I went with the Dutch Baby that had inspired the trip, while Ben chose a massive five-egg Spanish-style omelette topped in marinara sauce.  Our waitress forgot to bring our banana appetizer and so knocked the cost of our beverages off the bill.  And we were entertained by the incredibly colorful patrons (although Ben was a bit concerned that one of the hipster breakfasters had chosen to wear his plum-colored tights sans culottes).

We then make our way down to the Sunday market, held in the middle of Ballard’s impossibly chic streets full of one-off stores of boggling variety.  While hardly a blip on the map next to the gargantuan Pike Place Market, the Ballard variety is dog-friendly, totally organic/seasonal, and, in short, entirely delightful.  We were able to pick up gorgeous multi-colored potatoes, fresh cod and mussels, liver-and-peanut butter brownies (a treat for Winnie), just-cut pasta, and everything else we needed for Ben to perform feats of culinary mastery.*

Then it was a quick stop at Miro Tea for drinks for the road, and we headed back to our rental in Blandsville.  But I do believe that we will always remember with fondness our Valentine’s day in the land of hippies, hipsters, Bohemians, and poets.

More photos of our day:

*Except for tomatoes, which we could have bought dried but not fresh–that whole seasonal thing.