The feeling of inner calm gained from mild winters all but vanishes at the sight of the year’s first major snow storm. It’s a situation that keeps us all on high alert, as it’s a question of “when?”, not “if?”. With thirteen inches of powder falling from the sky and a 9 A.M. shift looming in the distance, I hauled myself to Portsmouth the night before the impending doom, accepting a night of mild discomfort over a potential ice-induced casualty.

However the night got increasingly disagreeable as it trudged along. Brutal abdominal upset led to my body forming a right angle as I meandered down Congress Street, a common feeling from my childhood that I thought I’d escaped. A night of broken sleep, likely reaching about two hours total, proceeded; none of which can be attributed to any fun, hedonistic activity that could be gawked at later.

I awoke to the news that my 9 A.M. shift would now be a 12:30 shift. Now, with over four hours to kill and simultaneously no energy or ability to sleep, all I could do is roam around the blustery, white-cloaked city, with the hope that something might be open.

After fifteen minutes of questioning every decision I’d ever made while reading a slew of “Closed” signs, I found relief. Colby’s Breakfast & Lunch, a Portsmouth standby that I had fond memories of, was open for business.

This charming little nook is celebrating their twentieth birthday this year, but the space has served as a restaurant since 1980. You play by their rules. Whip out the cellular device to answer a phone call, and you’ll be told to take it outside. Public WIFI? Best of Luck.

I hurried inside, immediately locked eyes on the last remaining table situated against a window, and was promptly seated there. Five layers on clothing soon became two, although I had no choice but to rock my snow-saturated khakis. The buzzing, chatter-filled dining room was a direct contrast with the desolation found just beyond the art-adorned yellow walls.

Outside of the daily specials scrawled out on a chalkboard anchored in the center of a brick wall, the menu changed very little from my previous visit five years ago. One can find all the breakfast classics executed with a bit of creative flair, but absolutely no frills.

My most vivid memory from Colby’s was their buttermilk pancakes, which are as incredible as they are daunting. Sold by the piece, these flapjacks extend past the large plate they rest on. Ordering more than one is a fool’s errand; a single pancake is enough for nearly everyone. Chocolate, blueberries and homemade granola are available as add-ons, and there’s usually a special on the chalkboard. I chose blueberry and granola. After a brief ten minutes of watching the snow descend from my diminutive wooden table, my behemoth breakfast arrived.

Cloaked in powdered sugar, crowned with butter and served with a sidecar of real maple syrup (“maple-flavored” be damned), this pancake demands your attention. It’s perfectly mixed, light, fluffy and bursting with fresh blueberries and crunchy granola. Syrup is welcome but not at all necessary.

Finish the entire plate and a round of applause by those nearby and a lengthy nap are in immediate order. But as an attention-phobic individual with no time for a nap, the remaining third ended up in a cardboard box to be eaten in the not-so-distant future.

I could have remained situated at that cozy window spot for hours, watching the white debris cover the landscape as people hurried by. However upon noticing the huddle of hungry patrons lingering by the congested entrance, I knew my time was up.

I donned my five layers and trudged out into the town, feeling satiated and newly energized. It was time to work off of two hours of sleep and a plate of pure carbs. What could possibly go wrong?

Find Colby’s Breakfast at 105 Daniel Street in Portsmouth, NH and on their website.