Pancakes Rock, Coffee Sucks

We stayed one night in Punakaiki, a little town (town? We didn’t actually see a town per se—just a couple tourist traps, a few hostels, and a few beachside homes) on the West Coast between Greymouth and Nelson. The claim to fame of Punakaiki is a natural formation called “Pancake Rocks,” a rare sandstone (dolomite, for you geology nerds) formation on the shore. The sandstone deposits were heaved up to sea level some long time ago, and are now eroded by the sea. What’s left, and currently being eroded away, are tall towers that look like giant stacks of four-inch-thick pancakes of stone. The sea has eroded around their bases, so the tides swell through arches and create blowholes and such. Good geologic fun.

Across the highway (the only street in Punakaiki) from the entrance to the park where the Pancake Rocks are is a pair of buildings situated in such a way as to catch all the tourists disembarking from their buses. One is a kitchy little arts and crafts store; the other is a café with internet service. They, like many other cafes in New Zealand, advertise “Breakfast All Day,” and their specialty dish is—you guessed it! Pancakes.

So this morning, because we had a hankering for pancakes and for the sheer novelty of it, we had pancakes next to the Pancake Rocks. Two fluffy flapjacks apiece, with fruit, maple syrup (of which we did not partake because we’re New England maple syrup snobs), and heaps of butter. Good stuff.

We also both ordered lattés, out of habit. (We’d like to publicly thank our friends in Durango, Jill and Ted Wright, for making this our habit. Thanks, Jill and Ted, for what’s about to follow.)

We sat down with our lattés and awaited our pancakes. We took the first drinks of our coffee-and-steamed-milk concoctions. We gave each other looks like I’d imagine we’d exchange if we’d just toasted our health with mugs of motor oil. Now, mind you, I haven’t tasted motor oil straight from the bottle, but I think it might taste better than these lattés.

We added sugar—several teaspoons each—to no effect.

The pancakes were good enough, however, that the bad coffee didn’t spoil our breakfast. We did, however, take not of the brand of coffee they were using: “Hummingbird.” Although I can’t say that something wasn’t fouled up in the process of making the lattés proper, let this tale be a word of caution for those purchasing Hummingbird brand coffee.

Lesson learned: if you want a good latté, go to Jill and Ted’s. ’Nuff said.

~emrys