The Adventures Of Jimmy's And The Rubbery Pancakes

I was once told that the best bad food you can get was from the worst greasy spoon diner on the block. That has held true for me for as long as I can recall- until now. Enter chapter two in my book of culinary disasters. I must say that this greasy spoon was exactly that, a greasy spoon, nothing more, nothing less. 

I decided to try out a “down home” place called “Jimmy’s” in Liberty City, Miami. What a huge disappointment. I should have known I was gonna be in for trouble when I sat down and asked the waitress, if you can call her that, if they served turkey sausages. This woman who looked like she was a full grown woman 30 years ago when this place first opened, looked at me like I’d just disrespected the bible. 

You know the type, clearly by the way she lumbered over to the table, she was suffering from either a bad hip replacement or in desperate need of a good one. Her grey Jherri Curl doo was styled in an afro. Her faded out blue jeans (that were too big for her) were her favorite or the ones she wore the most out of habit. To tie the whole look together she topped it off with a sweat shirt with a picture of someone she’d never heard of before like Biggie. A gift from a grandchild trying to make her look cool perhaps?  After she collected herself from my blasphemous question, she proceeded to take my order. All the while glaring at me from eyes that were now slits. 

This place didn’t serve waffles, and she let that be known with all certainty, especially after my absurd turkey question. I have to remember I’m in the south. I was in luck, (or was I?) they did serve pancakes. So I thought to myself why not, let me try their pancakes. I put in my order, a stack of pancakes, and two soft scrambled eggs with cheese. And then I waited. and waited. and waited. 

During the next 20 minutes, I took stock of my surroundings. I realized that I was the youngest man in the place... by at least 15 years.

I started paying attention to the cook who looked like he was also the part time janitor. At times he looked like he was trying to remember what it took to make a plate of eggs. Finally the ‘waitress’ bought my food to me. I must say it did look like what I asked for until I tried to cut into it’s rubber like texture. What a task! I attempted to eat what I managed to pry away from the plate only to have another bout with this rubbery substance that “Jimmy’s” likes to pass off to unsuspecting travelers as pancakes.

I ordered a glass of orange juice to chase my so called pancake. The elderly woman bought me back a glass with ice and a “CAN” of off-brand orange juice-drink. At this point I had no choice but to swallow the spider to catch the fly, so I drank that orange juice-drink thing. 

I figured the eggs have to taste somewhat decent. WRONG!

All I can remember about those eggs was for some reason I only took one bite. Maybe my defense mechanism kicked in to remove the pain of unpleasantness from my consciousness. 

Once again my belly has fallen victim to the unpleasantries of Miami’s “dining.” I paid the bill and left 2 and a half pancakes, 2 soft scrambled objects (claiming to be eggs) and a glass of orange juice-drink on the table. What little bit I did eat stayed with me the entire day and sat on my chest like a lead pendent.  

I left “Jimmy’s” knowing that today victory will not be mine. What ever else they served was of no concern to me or my stomach. So far the count is Miami bad foods 2, Joe Grant’s Turkey Burger and Waffle 0. 

Thanks for reading, if you know a decent spot for Turkey Burgers or Waffles in Miami- (In my best James Brown voice) please, please, please, let me know.