The Perfect Pancake

January 7, 2010

I am progressively becoming a bad cook.  I used to do alright in the kitchen, but I’ve lost the desire COMPLETELY.  And even when I cook something I can’t wait to eat, my enthusiasm is tempered by the knowledge that my children will wrinkle their noses and too much of whatever yummy thing is produced will end up on my fat ass.

Thanks to Eggo for having a shortage and its competitors for making such spectacularly awful waffles, I’ve had the urge lately to perfect my pancake making skills.  My previous efforts generally included several burned waffles and three or four decent ones at the very end.

I must have mentioned this urge to my husband because he gave me a “perfect pancake” pan for Christmas.   Don’t judge him for it.  He does at least half the cooking and is getting quite good at it from all the practice.  Since I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, I thought attempting to make the perfect pancake sometime in 2010 was a great idea.

So this morning I woke up early made the family pancakes for breakfast.  Had the inspiration last night as I spotted the “for supreme pancakes” tip on the Bisquik box.  (Yes, I make them from scratch, too, but the oldest kid had to get to school).  The “supreme” pancakes called for adding baking powder, sugar & vanilla.  I also snuck pumpkin puree into the mix and called it “healthy”.

I had a vision of peace and harmony in the Johnson household.

All went well.  The pancakes were made.  The boy was fed and left for school pretty much on time.  My husband never got any because he was too busy doing all the stuff I wasn’t doing because I was making my fabulous pancakes on a weekday morning.  Thanks to the addition of the baking powder, the pancakes that I didn’t burn were nice and fluffy.  An inch closer to perfect, I thought.

My daughter walked away from her two-thirds full plate saying, “I don’t like this kind.”  (I swear, I didn’t give her the burned ones.)  I plopped down and thought to myself as I finished her delicious pancakes that they will never like the ones I think are perfect.  They’ll want something else.

Moral of the story:  Yet another example in life that you can’t please everybody.  Especially if “everybody” is 5 years old and we’re talking about food.