A local chain of (what used to be called) coffee shops was running a commercial touting their inventive use of fresh strawberries in their various breakfast combos. I say “used to be called” because now a “coffee shop” is one of those specialized places that sells a mind-numbing variety of coffee concoctions. The places I’m talking about now call themselves “family restaurants,” which means they serve families, and you can parse that any way you like (“It’s a cook book!”).
I have absolutely nothing against the commercial, fresh strawberries (love them, especially in champagne) or pancakes (although I prefer waffles). I’m not sure I buy into the idea there are new ways to use strawberries in breakfast dishes, but such is the commercial’s claim. (Hmmm (and Mmmm), perhaps an evidence-gathering field trip is required!)
What does amuse me about the commercial, though, is the misfired mother.