It's one my kid Hunter discovered quite quickly, quite publicly at The Bucket List Cafe on one chilly Friday morning in 2023. You see, Hunter had heard of what I had discovered on my last visit to the Center Ridge restaurant - a pancake as big as the lid of a 55 gallon drum. I had read the menu, marveled at the prices, and even taken a look at a cell phone video showing the advertised monster being flipped with a pizza peel.
"I can totally eat that," Hunter told me.
"In an hour?" I responded?
"Easily."
I had, on the same visit as discovering this menu item in the listing, enjoyed one of the most hilarious restaurant menus I've encountered in Arkansas. So much of the menu is bucket themed - with different morning buckets listed with combinations of egg, meat, hashbrowns, gravy and the like. There are several amusing sandwiches, including the Mother Clucker (chicken sandwich), Big Nasty (Philly steak with brown gravy), Salty Sam (Italian sausage, peppers and onions with three cheeses), and something on the dessert menu called Fried Flookie with Some Nookie (I... I don't really know and I didn't ask).
On that visit, I'd enjoyed a magnificent crisply fried feast of brown that is the C Food Bucket, a mess of both regular and Cajun fried shrimp, fried clam strips, fried crawfish tails and side - my choice of fried squash blending into the melee of various shapes with identical battering. It was a ridiculous amount of food that I'd have been better off sharing, but that day I'd been traveling long without sustenance, and I found myself enjoying the sinful combination. It was a LOT.
It still, though, wasn't anything like the pancake we would encounter. The pancakes are all judged by bucket lid sizes, outside of three silver dollar pancakes for tiny appetites. There are both small and large bucket lids, the five gallon bucket lid, and the 55 Gallon Bucket Lid - which, if I were to be succinct on the matter, would be a pancake of at least 23 inches in diameter. I asked about this, and that's when I was shown the cell phone video. And that's what brought us back.
You see, this massive, two-box-of-pancake-mix pancake has to be ordered a day in advance. It can be augmented with berries and cream or with chocolate chips, but otherwise comes to the table smeared in margarine and served with an entire bottle of table syrup. If you eat it in an hour, it's free and you get bragging rights. If you can't, you get your photo taken for the Wall of Shame and it's $12.99.
After Hunter's declaration, we looked for a good time to make the event happen, which meant planning a visit in the middle of the holiday break. I made the call, let the folks there know when we'd arrive, and informed the child that yes, we were going to see if the kid could do it.
The pancake was ready when we arrived. Since Hunter was insistent that the challenge could still be met, I ordered my own omelet breakfast, a big flat affair of Cheddar cheese and meat with a generous side of hashbrowns and an epically large biscuit.
The pancake was delivered, and the kid jumped right in as I took the first photo. I asked if syrup was needed and got a resounding "no." Rather than dive in with a fork, Hunter grabbed the edge and started pulling fist-sized chunks from the massive platter of pancake. I estimated it was about 20 inches across. At crepe-thickness, like some of those served at Crepe's Paulette in Bentonville, this would have been a certain bet. But no. As I watched, I noticed the chunks pulled from the pan were thick, thicker than a Belgian waffle, and dense as a pound cake. I sat back with my coffee and watched.
Five minutes later, the enormity of the situation had visually started to sink in, and I watched my progeny slump back in the chair. Hunter asked for creamer, stirred it thoughtfully into hot coffee, and let our eyes meet.
"I underjudged."
"I know," I responded, grinning but having the decency not to chuckle too loud."
"I think I need to slow down." Hunter said, and picked at the edge of the pancake. I picked up the edge on my side, and marveled at its heft, which elicited a deep sign from the 15 year old pancake aficionado. Without another word, another chunk was pulled off the edge, and the battle continued.
The restaurant filled up. Folks gawked and chided. I got my omelet and savored all its protein, meaty countenance, all the better while watching the slow-rolling show in front of me. My hamburger and cheddar omelet was made better by the salsa offered with it, though I did sorta crave a bit of pancake on my own. But a challenge is a challenge, right?
As the minutes slipped past, I entertained myself and my offspring by reading out loud much of the literature on the walls, funny sayings and adages, as we sat below a poster-sized menu for the Road Kill Grill. The radio station's offerings switched from country to hip hop to Ozzy Osbourne, yet the mood at my table of understated astoundment continued. Hunter did not so much seem to regret this challenge as to be amused by the hubris that had all but evaporated.
We didn't even make it to the hour before Hunter called for a box. Two clamshell boxes were proffered, and they both cracked under the volume of pancake - completely devoid of any viscous syrup - that were packed within. I paid up, we made our salutations, and ventured forth upon the day. Half the remnants were delivered to my brother; the rest came home with us, where Hunter would apply the side-eye any time I mentioned there was leftover pancake in the fridge.
I did get my chance to sample the monster the next morning. The hefty weight of the box was only slightly lightened by the four inch square portion I took for myself, and could not finish.
I have traveled far and wide in this world. I have encountered exactly one place - Billy Gail's of Branson - which offers a single pancake the width of the 55 Gallon Pancake at The Bucket List Cafe, but none with its depth or heft. I have been told that a single individual, throughout the history of The Bucket List Cafe, has managed to consume the whole thing in the allotted time. For now and for always, though, Hunter has a place on the Wall of Shame for a defeat to the bready, breakfast bucket lid pancake.
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