I know it’s not hard to do. But I have a terrible pancake complex. Andrew’s are perfect, of course.
So Reed had a friend sleep over the other night. In the morning, Andrew left to take Max to his basketball game (an 8:30 a.m. game – inhuman!) and when Reed and his friend woke up, they asked for pancakes. And they looked too hungry to wait for Andrew to come home. (Don’t think I didn’t consider this option.)
I mixed up the batter and heated the griddle. (I did have to ask one of the kids if I was supposed to grease it.)
Then, having learned from past experience, I cooked a test pancake. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I had clearly overcome my fears of inadequacy. Thank goodness.
So I ate the perfect pancake while I cheerfully started cooking the rest. I used a small-ish ladle and wanted each pancake to be uniform. I scooped the batter and laid out 4 perfect circles.
By now, I was simply glowing. I am woman, hear me roar! I turned up the music on the iPod and waited for the right time to flip batch one.
I flipped the first one. Perfection. I couldn’t wait for Andrew to come home so I could gloat.
But then disaster struck.
The second pancake flipped only halfway and folded onto itself. The third wasn’t ready and splattered making the circle too big on the other side. Do you know what I mean by this? It’s burned into my memory now – so if you need me to draw you a picture, I will.
And it was downhill from there.
In many cases, I had to flip the pancake back onto its front to finish cooking. We all know that is not ideal. For some, I had to press on them so the edges would cook. And I feared (not irrationally) that the insides might still be batter-y.
Did the boys eat the pancakes?
Every single one.
Did Reed’s friend mention how good his dad’s pancakes are? Yup. To which Reed replied that HIS dad’s are really great, too.
So dejected, I cleaned up the mess I’d made. And I wiped up the sticky syrup from the counter where the boys ate.
I was all alone in the kitchen with my second cup of coffee when it hit me. I can’t stand the heat.
Maybe I should stay out of the kitchen.