SEATTLE — It’s a common Seattle story: A girl grows up in a household of co-op shoppers, where sugary cereals are reserved for birthdays and camping trips. The girl rebels, covertly sipping Coca-Cola (it’ll stunt your growth!) and chewing Fruit Stripe (it’ll give you cavities!) and snarfing grapes (we’re boycotting in solidarity with farmworkers!) at friends’ houses. The girl grows into an adult with an insatiable sweet tooth, for whom junk food has never lost the shiny allure of the forbidden. She finds deep relaxation in baking a rainbow-chip cake with boxed mix and canned icing. She eats Flamin’ Hot Cheetos by the bagful. She gets a quiet thrill every time she buys Skippy peanut butter instead of Adams.
Well, that girl was me, which is how I found myself on a recent weekday at one of only two IHOP locations in Seattle, ready to try some godawful-looking, maybe disgusting-in-a-good-way cupcake pancakes. The Maison Internationale des Pancakes may be presently under fire for a poorly conceived marketing campaign — “IHOB”? Really? OK — but these cupcake pancakes ($7.99), with their baked-in rainbow sprinkles and layer of icing, seemed a monstrosity all their own, a peak junk-food experience I needed to have, like Burning Man for maladjusted taste buds.
If you’ve never been to IHOP, you’ve been somewhere like it: The exterior aesthetic is pure 1970s ski chalet. Inside, the napkins are paper. The booths are tidy in an antiseptic way. Service is prompt and friendly. It is quite possibly Capitol Hill’s only breakfast spot that doesn’t have a line. The background music comes courtesy of adult contemporary hits circa 2001, and ranges from cringey Goo Goo Dolls to the Backstreet Boys (did you hear they’re back) to “Dawson’s Creek”-era Paula Cole, who’s aging well. But most importantly, IHOP offers the Valhalla of breakfast: an entire carafe of coffee ($2.69) right on the table for your mug-refilling pleasure. This is the way to my heart and I don’t care who knows it.
I’ve somehow convinced intrepid Travel & Outdoors reporter Crystal Paul to join me on this quest for cavities, and she decides to put this “IHOB” controversy to rest by ordering one of the burgers, confusingly branded as “Ultimate Steakburgers” and, with a price range of $11.69 to $13.59, surprisingly expensive.