The Original Pancake House - Cherry Hills
You know that feeling when your alarm goes off on a Saturday and your first thought isn’t “rise and shine” but “what if I just became a pancake?” That’s the kind of morning th...
You know that feeling when your alarm goes off on a Saturday and your first thought isn’t “rise and shine” but “what if I just became a pancake?” That’s the kind of morning that leads you to The Original Pancake House in Cherry Hills.
It’s not a fancy brunch spot where the avocado toast costs more than your car insurance. It’s a breakfast institution, the kind of place where the coffee keeps coming and nobody judges you for ordering a side of bacon with your pancakes and a side of pancakes with your bacon.
Walking in, you’re hit with that warm, syrupy smell. It’s like a hug from a grandma who secretly sprinkles sugar in everything. The Cherry Hills location has that classic diner feel—booths, chatter, and servers who can carry four plates like they’re playing a very delicious game of Tetris.
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The Menu Is Basically a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Book
You sit down, open the menu, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed. There are omelets, crepes, waffles, and pancakes in every flavor combination known to mankind. It’s like someone took a normal breakfast and said, “What if we made it bigger and butterier?”
The Dutch Baby is their claim to fame. It arrives looking like a giant, buttery balloon that got deflated on purpose. You squeeze a lemon over it, watch the powdered sugar snow down, and forget that you ever had other plans for the day.
Then there’s the Apple Pancake. It’s not a pancake in the traditional sense. It’s more like a cinnamon-apple skyscraper that decided to lie down. You tell yourself you’ll eat half, but then you blink and the plate is clean and you’re considering licking it.
Real Talk: The Wait Is Part of the Experience
On weekends, the line can stretch out the door. You’ll see people in jogging clothes they haven’t actually jogged in, families with toddlers who are already melting down, and one guy who looks like he just left a 1990s grunge concert. Everyone is waiting for the same thing: carbohydrate salvation.
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But here’s the thing—the wait goes faster than you’d think. You chat with strangers, you smell the bacon, and you start planning your order like it’s a military operation. By the time your name is called, you’re ready to invade a stack of flapjacks.
And the servers? They’re pros. They refill your coffee before you even know it’s low, like a ninja with a caffeine addiction. They’ll answer your questions about the difference between the “49er Flapjacks” and the “Silver Dollar Pancakes” without making you feel like a dummy.
Portions That Make You Question Physics
When your food arrives, your first reaction is usually laughter. Not a polite chuckle—a full, “Are you kidding me?” laugh. The plates are enormous, and the pancakes hang over the edges like they’re trying to escape.
You’ll see someone at the next table order the “I’m not that hungry” special, which turns out to be three eggs, a mountain of hash browns, and a pancake the size of a frisbee. They’ll eat two bites and ask for a box. We’ve all been there.
The best part is leftovers—you leave with a styrofoam container that feels like a prize. The next morning, you relive the magic without putting on real pants. That’s what I call value.
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Why Cherry Hills Feels Like Home
There’s nothing trendy about it. The decor hasn’t changed since probably forever, and that’s exactly the point. It’s a place where you can show up in a hoodie with bedhead and still feel welcome.
You’ll find regulars who have their own booth, kids who grew up eating here and now bring their own kids, and college students who stumbled in after an all-nighter. Everyone’s here for the same reason: comfort.
And let’s be honest—when the world feels like a messy group chat, a plate of pancakes fixes more than you’d expect. It’s not a cure for everything, but it’s a pretty solid start.
So next time you wake up with a grumble in your stomach and a shrug in your soul, head to The Original Pancake House in Cherry Hills. Order the Dutch Baby, get the extra bacon, and tip your server. And don’t even think about counting calories—that’s a problem for Future You.
Future You will understand. Future You will probably order the same thing next weekend.
