A perfect Saturday morning for pancakes, cool and breezy, and I'm blowing off exercise class for a leisurely brunch.
Is it the coolness? The ambient humidity? Why is this batter so thick? Like bread dough thick. I add more buttermilk which briefly thins it out, then it gels back into a pasty goo. I add still a bit more liquid--cautiously, one teaspoon at a time as I'd once thinned a previous batch unto ruin--then I scrape three cakes-worth into the pan scarcely able to get the stuff off of the spoon.
My kids are way past pancake smiley faces, in fact neither one was even home for pancake anything. But listen, this plaster-of-pancake could've been sculpted into 3-D clowns at this point. Midway through cake one, I realize no one could eat two of these things and rise off the kitchen chair to tell about it. My husband graciously allows that "the consistency is atrocious."
Then he leaves his panbrick half-eaten and starts to put the ingredients away.
"Did you use heavy cream to make these pancakes?" he asks, holding up a half-empty quart of heavy whipping cream that looks suspiciously like the buttermilk container.
And I realize, with a literal lump in my stomach, that I've just put away nearly a half cup of real deal cream. Back to bed for a nap, too full for anything else.
6 comments:
Oh, no! How full you must have felt! I love baking with buttermilk, but heavy whipping cream? No wonder they were heavy. LOL!
LOL, I can sympathize! Last weekend I was making pancakes with an INSTANT pancake mix - as if pancake mixes aren't instant enough. It's by Bisquik and all you do is add water in the container of the mix, shake it, and voila - pancake batter. I'd even made it before. I made the first batch and couldn't understand why it was so runny. Tried to make a pancake out of it and it was like water and wouldn't set. So I finally read the directions and discovered that I was supposed to measure the water - only 2/3 cup - not just fill the whole plastic bottle full of water! Luckily I had another container of it and made the second batch correctly!
Not quite as bad as when my father basted a chicken on a rotisserie with Pine Sol rather than cooking oil. And, no, to my knowledge, he wasn't on any drugs at the time. Probably should have been, come to think of it!
Liz here with a quick question: what is exogenous obesity (as listed on coroner's report of a family member) and what's our preventive?
Hi female doc: I love your "Menopause Moments" site. I try to drop by at least once a month faithfully to catch up -- that is, when I remember.
Some years ago, I confessed to my GP about eggs -- "I have one -- or two -- every morning." He said, "No problem! It's what you have with them that may cause problems."
Well, my wife being vegetarian, the soy bean bacon accompaniment with my eggs each morn would be just what the doctor ordered I
thought! Then I read your recent "Dying for a hamburger" here and I'm not so self-assured.
Anyway, I'm typing this while the charcoal is heating on the patio. (I'm having my Memorial Day cookout. It's two days late. Reason? When I went to the store on the holiday for my bratwurst cookout items -- buns, brats, potato salad, mustard, etc. -- I returned with everything. Everything except the bratwurst! (And I had a grocery list.) I joined my wife for a veggie meal instead.)
But that's not my point. After reading your very funny MM glasses moment, I just had to share mine from this morning. (BTW, men can have menopause moments too, right? Maybe if not from that, maybe from all the cooked egg whites?)
Today was a landmark day. I would head out early to the Central Appraisal District's office to finally apply for my "over 65" property tax exemption. Mrs. Dada volunteered to go along.
"No, you sleep in, this shouldn't take me long," was my response. To make sure everything went smoothly, I even thought to take a copy of my birth certificate. I drove the 12 miles to their office very early as Mrs. Dada slept. Everything went exactly as I'd planned.
There were no crowds, I immediately signed in and moments later, before a clerk, was all set to go. That is, until she asked, "May I see a photo ID, like your a driver's license, please?"
Hopelessly groping for my wallet was futile. "Oh, I think I left it at home," I said sheepishly, sliding my birth certificate toward her. We both laughed as she slid my rejected birth certificate back to me as I related how the last things my wife always asks me as I depart the house to go shopping are, "Got the cell phone?" and "Do you have your wallet?" (It's almost embarrassing.)
This morning I wish she hadn't slept in, that she'd been around to ask me that last question; to save me 24 miles, a lot of time, and maybe an embarrassing menopause moment.
I recently dyed my hair as I do every month to hide the silver locks. I mixed the stuff as normal and while applying I thought wow this is so smooth and smells great, wonder why it's white maybe I didn't mix it properly but continued on anyway. Minutes later it dawned on me as I looked at the unopened tube of color, I was trying to dye my hair with a mix of the normal white stuff you get with hair dye and the conditioner they give you for afterwards.....yes I had the sleekiest softest hair but pity about the fact that it was still silver.....lol...my worst habit is now tidying things away and have no clue where they are it's like I want to torture myself......
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