Flipper? Flopper? Oh, Flapper. Now it makes sense.


@MNMeditations photo from Instagram and Twitter

A dear friend and I were able to organize our schedules for a Friday morning breakfast. She threw out the option of lunch, too, but when I told her I’d be game for breakfast, she iMessaged with an, “I was hoping you’d say breakfast! I love pancakes.”

It was settled. We’d meet late morning and drive to Colossal Cafe in St. Paul (Como Avenue).

As a first-timer to the friendly neighborhood eatery, I followed my friend’s lead. She animatedly told me about her menu selections the minute we pulled out of her neighborhood. Already she had decided on pancakes.

Except, this is what I heard, “I’m trying to decide if I want just a Flapper or the Flapper sandwich.”

What?

Quick to realize how clueless I was, she filled me in on the Colossal Cafe lingo.

A flapper, as she explained, is like a pancake. But it’s NOT!

It’s yeastier. Fluffier. And all-in-all, yummier.

Doubtful that I’d actually order it, I just let her chat away about this odd breakfast item.

And then we entered the cafe. Adorable. A mix of diner, cafe, bistro, and farm-house-kitchen-feel. And I decided, on the spot, that I would try a Flapper sandwich.

“While in Rome, right?” I told my friend.

As a former debater (like, she was on the debate team and went to State – who knew they had a State Tournament?!), she was probably pleased that she had persuaded me to choose her favorite breakfast item. Still, I made her order before me, just in case I chickened out.

I didn’t. I ordered a Flapper Sandwich. Egg, Cheddar, and Bacon. Taco-styled into a dense, yet fluffy, Flapper. The Flapper itself is sweet, but not pancake-sweet.

We sat at a table by the window and caught up on life. I had to work hard to keep my friend’s attention. She was hungry and had Flapper on the brain.

When our food came, I hesitated. Could I really eat a pancake with egg, cheddar, and bacon in it?

I stared like a rude kid, the kid who stands on the booth and turns around to watch you eat, while my friend took her first bite. Seeing her smile and “yum” it up, I decided to take the plunge.

Really. Seriously. I’m not lying.

The Flapper Sandwich was beyond my expectations. I didn’t only like it. I loved it.

Our Flappers came with maple syrup. And ya know what? I tried a couple bites with it. It was not bad. Not bad at all.

Moral of the story: don’t Green Eggs and Ham a breakfast item until you try it.

Oh, and go to Colossal Cafe.

Oh, but don’t eat the pretty red strawberry on your plate. I did not return the favor and steer my friend toward good food choices. After finishing her Flapper, she took a bite of her daintily cut strawberry and her facial expression told me she felt like she’d been poisoned.

Trying to swallow and not regurgitate the whole berry, she told me, “It’s warm!”

Yeah. Don’t eat the warm strawberry. It’s just for looks.

More Flappers, please? A huh!

*bonus points to my friend for legitimately knowing NHL playoff facts. She brushed up “just for our breakfast!” What a pal!

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2 thoughts on “Flipper? Flopper? Oh, Flapper. Now it makes sense.

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