I love all kinds of food (I don’t discriminate!), but breakfast fare is by far my favorite. When I travel, I usually try to check out at least a few local eateries with standout morning menus. So, on a recent business trip to Nashville, I chowed down at the Pancake Pantry, said to dole out the yummiest pancakes in town. (Some devotees go so far as to claim the flapjacks doled out at the Pantry are among the world’s best.)

The local A.M. institution is in Hillsboro Village, a colorful neighborhood abutting Vanderbilt University. When I arrived, there was a short line, but it moved quickly, and I was seated within 10 minutes. (Actually, the wait for a server was longer, and when she finally arrived, she was all business.) Although the bulk of the menu features pancakes to match every palate—from sweet potato pancakes to ultra-thin blintzes—I ordered an egg platter with a side of plain, old-fashioned buttermilk pancakes.

The server headed to the kitchen. Then, about 20 minutes went by. I looked around and noticed not too many other customers had their food—never a good sign. I went to the bathroom, hoping that when I returned to my seat, my food would be there waiting for me. No such luck.

Finally the server reappeared, and she was bearing gifts. My dish—the Grill Cook’s Medley—looked so delicious that I dug in immediately, momentarily forgetting to snap a picture. Here’s how the Pantry menu describes the overloaded breakfast plate: “One of our best sellers. Put together mounds of hash browns with onions, green peppers, tomatoes and ham—all grilled up crisp. Add to that two kinds of melted cheese and topped with two fried eggs. Just break the yolks and spread picante sauce all over.”

Though there’s a lot of stacking going on, the Grill Cook’s Medley isn’t just a pile of mush. Everything on my plate was cooked perfectly. The eggs weren’t runny or greasy, the potatoes were zesty, and the cheese was gooey and plentiful. I hated to do it, but halfway through the meal I had to stop myself because I didn’t want to run out of belly room for the pancakes.

A huge mound of butter—way too much for my needs—was scraped onto the side of the flapjacks. I added the syrup, which was in a tall glass container with a pour spout (très cool), and cut a few pieces. Each fluffy bite melted in my mouth, and I was definitely pleased. However, I can’t say I was all that impressed. These pancakes looked and tasted similar to ones I could get at any decent IHOP, and while I do love that national chain, I expected something a little more unique from a local neighborhood eatery. In addition, I felt the service was somewhat slow and, unfortunately, this wasn’t because my waitress was super hospitable. (She wasn’t rude, but she also wasn’t overly friendly.)

I finished up then waited up front to pay. Behind the cash register, a sign caught my eye: “Sun, rain or shine, there’s always a line.” The cute little ditty succinctly expressed my own opinion of the Pancake Pantry. Still, my experience, though drawn-out, hadn’t been that time-consuming. I certainly was glad I wasn’t part of the sluggish procession of would-be patrons now lining up at the front door.

All in all, I liked the place. Any establishment that puts the word “pancake” right in its name is OK with me (and, apparently, public figures like the Jonas Brothers and Mitt Romney feel the same way).  If I’m ever in Nashville again, I’d return to try some of this family-owned restaurant’s more distinctive flapjack creations—unless, of course, the wait is longer than 10 minutes.