I love spring. The energy in New York has been infectious since the weather has lightened up. Everyone's smiling and walking around, and the random guy who roller-dances in Washington Square Park is back in action. (And if that doesn't scream Spring is here, then really, what does?)

I somewhat weirdly equate spring with.... pancakes. Nope, not flowers, not sunshine, but pancakes. Why? I've narrowed it down to two things: a vestigial remnant from my childhood circa 1998, and my favorite springtime morning routine in NYC. When I was little, my dad would take my sister and I to Church on Sundays. Afterwards, we were each allowed to pick out a beanie baby out at the pharmacy before walking next-door to On The Way Cafe, where we would eat the best chocolate chip pancakes suburban New York had to offer (if that isn't the ideal Sunday in 1998, seriously, tell me what is).

These days, on weekend mornings, my favorite thing in the world to do is run along the west-side highway sometime before 11am, and then end up at Bubby's in Tribeca, where I order the sourdough starter pancakes with homemade jam. Ahhhh, the best. The absolute best.