Not all heroes wear capes: when all but the pancakes went wrong in Rocotillos

 

“It’s not about what goes wrong, it’s about what you do with the things that go wrong.”

 

I’m going to level with you, I have never gone for breakfast to have everything go wrong and still walk out of there happy as a Larry.

 

Let me tell you all about it.

 

 

It was our second anniversary this weekend and we spent it in Bristol, the city of Banksy and beer. Unsurprisingly hubby and I were somewhat worse for wear come Sunday morning and you know what cures the effects of the night before? Pancakes, that’s what.

 

And Google told me there were very few places that did them better than Rocotillos, a casual hang out-style cafe that boasts to cook a range of comfort food dishes across the UK and ‘Murica. Basically, the place looks like a NYC diner with seating at the bar and a menu to suit the theme. They serve pancakes and full-English’s and milkshakes and beer. Also, as I found, pretty banging Big Tom’s, which are basically Bloody Mary’s on steroids.

 

 

It’s insanely busy at any given time and it’s what I’d call cosy, not exactly tiny but you do end up being friends with those who sit near you is all I’m saying.

 

Anyway. So we hit this place up around midday on Sunday and parked our behinds on the bar because that was literally the only place that had any room. We were told there was around half an hour’s wait for food (which is fine) and served drinks post haste. Hubby had a few coffees and I a freshly squeezed orange juice (with bits, and I am only mentioning it because bits are the most important part of good orange juice) and a Big Tom, the aforementioned, supercharged Bloody Mary.

 

 

I was waiting for my pancakes with banana, bacon and maple syrup (don’t judge until you have some, alright) and hubby for his fry-up with steak when it all went pants. Hubby’s brekkie was ready but there has been a pancake related catastrophe when the kitchen ran out of batter (happens all the time), made some more (obvs), it went wrong (oh noes) and had to make a new one (huzzah).

 

The peeps at Rocotillos were up-front about what had happened and were so apologetic it made me feel really bad. Because stuff happens. It’s not the end of the world. We agreed that hubby could start his brekkie while I tucked into my Big Tom (I know how that sounds but I’m not willing to compromise my artistic expressions) and the manager said he wasn’t going to charge me for my meal. Which was kinda unnecessary because stuff happens and it’s OK, but the gesture was still very much appreciated.

 

 

The staff told us exactly what happened, who long it would take to sort it out, apologised and compensated. And in the end, it didn’t even take that long. Hubby was half-way down his oversized fry-up by the time I got my pancakes so truth be told – if they hadn’t been so upfront about what had happened, would I have even noticed? I’m not 100% convinced I would have.

 

Besides, the pancakes were a bloody revelation; so fluffy and soft and the bacon was crispy and smoky and the maple syrup oozing of awesomeness. I would have waited for that glorious plateful of banging brekkie for longer if necessary.

 

 

Before we left we had a quick word with the staff and as it so happened, Sunday happened to be one of those days when everything goes wrong and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve had days like that, and I’ll be honest, I’m usually a sobbing mess by the end of it, not a functioning member of society like these folks. Stuff went wrong and they dealt with it like the ironclad service-professionals they are. They are bloody heroes and I won’t hear anything else about it.

 

That’s what I’m going to remember from this place. That, and how the pancakes were like a hug for the tummy, from the inside.

 

Give these guys some love on Social Media and go and try some of their superb service and banging pancakes yourself. Seriously. Go now.

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