An annual battering

PANCAKES- Delicious!

TUESDAY was Pancake Day and it was a signal for me to break out the flour, milk and eggs, and spend the day splattering the walls and whipping up batches of my wife’s favourite food.

Perhaps not favourite; it’s simply that pancakes are rarely on the menu for us at other times of the year, and so on this one day we really go to town.

Even if I say so myself, I am pretty darn good at making these yummy frisbees and I have pancake tossing down to a fine art. Okay, so I’m not so good at catching them, but you can’t have everything.

The exception to the once a year rule is if we find ourselves visiting the US to see friends. 

On these occasions, the Princess will not hesitate to indulge herself and when breakfasting in local restaurants, it’s a safe bet that this will be her food of choice.

On our way from Yosemite to San Francisco recently, we stopped at a roadside diner for a late breakfast. It was like something out of Happy Days and we half expected to see the Fonz saunter in. 

No sooner had we parked ourselves in a window booth, than a pretty little gum-chewing waitress appeared at my elbow, and taking the obligatory pencil from behind her ear, prepared to write down our order.

“What’s your pleasure, guys?” she drawled (all Americans drawl). I was tempted to tell her, but I ordered some bacon, sausage and eggs-over-easy with lots of toast, instead. The Princess asked if they happened to have pancakes.

Our waitress paused in mid chew and with a disbelieving expression replied: “Do we have pancakes?” Hellooo! Then realising that the accent was hardly West Coast, declared: “Oh, you’re Brits. Cute. Yeah sure we got pancakes – medium or large stack?” Being familiar with the American idea of portion control, a medium stack was ordered; this turned out to be eight pancakes.

On another occasion six of us had decided on a very smart restaurant for breakfast at the San Diego marina. We were en route to Mexico and needed to fuel-up for the journey.

Predictably my lady ordered her beloved pancakes, but this time didn’t hold back and the Everest-sized mound duly arrived – dripping in melted butter and maple syrup, the whole edifice topped with strawberries and an assortment of exotic berries.

Two bites in and amid much lip smacking, she declared loudly: “If there’s such a thing as a gastronomic orgasm, I’m having it!” The clatter of forks dropped onto expensive crockery echoed around the elegant dining room.

I’m thinking that perhaps I should make pancakes at home more often.

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Comments


    • John Bean

      24 February 2015 • 14:10

      I would never believe that several hundred words on pancakes could be so intertaining. Mark you, the setting was in West Coast USA.
      Being interested in the claims that a good pancake could equate to a “gastronomic orgasm”, I offered to make one for my wife. For some reason she declined the invitation.

      John Bean

      Reply

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