My History With Pancakes


Let’s just say I have a history with pancakes. Once, when I was visiting my sister in South Carolina, we decided to have breakfast at a local pancake joint, and, to our surprise, the quaint little establishment was crawling with cockroaches! Uh, check please! And, on another occasion, my friend and I were cooking pancakes on his brand new stove. The burners on the new piece of kitchen equipment were functioning so well that they actually burned every pancake we tried to make. Talk about efficiency, right? But my most outrageous pancake story is about the first time I ever tried making the delicious breakfast treats.

When I was a child my mother always tried to teach me how to be independent, and that included teaching me how to make meals for myself. I had mastered pouring milk into my cereal and buttering toast pretty quickly, so we soon moved on to more complex dishes, like scrambled eggs and buttered noodles. One Sunday morning, when I was six-years-old, it was time to make pancakes, and I was excited. I prepared the necessary cooking implements and ingredients and began reading the recipe from a cookbook.

Things were going well, that is, for a while. I had no trouble cracking eggs and mixing all the ingredients together. Then the recipe called for a 1/4 teaspoon of salt. My six-year-old brain interpreted this as 1/4 cup of salt. You can probably guess where this is going. The mix was ready and I began pouring out even batches into the hot pan. They plumped up beautifully. They were so fluffy they looked like they were made out of clouds or whatever is on the inside of a Tempur Pedic Swedish sleep system. I served the golden cakes with a little butter and syrup. Time to eat! But when my mother and I took the inaugural bite, the perfect looking pancakes tasted more like sandcakes. My mother and I looked at each other and retraced my steps before realized where my accident occurred.

“I’ll make the next batch,” my mother said.

“I’ll let you,” I replied.

And much to our delight, the next batch of pancakes didn’t taste like a package of saltines.

(photo courtesy of Louella38/

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