i woke up tuesday morning with one thing on my mind: pancakes. and i knew exactly where to get them. when my boyfriend flew up from florida to meet my family in january, we adventured all over town and discovered a funny little breakfast spot that turned out to be one of those food network legends. we loved it-- we ate there twice in a week! hands down the most delicious pancakes i've ever had, and i fancy myself sort of a connoisseur. it's the kind of touristy place where a 45-minute wait is the norm in the summer, and the native american decor (it's called pocahontas pancake shop, afterall) keeps your eyes wandering as you shovel syrupy goodness into your mouth. on visit two, things got serious and we decided it would be our spot- that forever, when we're in town visiting my parents, we'll make sure we stop there. but tuesday i went alone. alone, alone. i was the only person in the entire place, and i thought about how much i love the beach off-season, with its ghost town streets and brutally cold sea breezes. i missed mark and felt pretty sneaky going without him... but he's forgiven me. one woman adventures are sometimes the very best kind.