There they were. Right there on the front cover of Bon Appetit. Whole grain pancakes with wild blueberry syrup. Becky and I always make it a team effort when it comes to making pancakes on weekend mornings. I have always, well for as long as she has known me, had a real passion for cooking and eating good food. It wasn’t until a little over a year ago that she decided to take up baking since the only thing I baked was savory dishes and as close as I got to a cake was corn bread. She has gotten quite good at it. So in this weekend pancake tandem, Beck makes the batter and I do the griddling; she like the way that I flip the flap-jacks.
It was no different in modus operandi for this pancake prep. She compiled the batter and I heated the electric griddle and prepared the blueberry syrup in a sauce pan. We used Aunt Jemima whole wheat pancake mix because my supermarket had only that mix and no other whole wheat mix. What’s up with that? How curious the batter though. When I looked at it, I was reminded of afternoon play-time at Karriage Kiddie Kare, my pre-kindergarten, when we got to don smocks and explore our skills with paste. This batter was mortar-esque and I thought that it would never give me back my mixing spoon. The recipe clearly states that the batter should be thick and that you have to drop it on the griddle and “work it” with the back of the spoon. No sh… Work it? I spread the first cake onto the griddle and it resembled cement mortar ready to be troweled. So, like I always do with recipes, I embellished. I added more buttermilk. Not that much, but just enough to get the
paste batter to release its death grip it had on my spoon. I then took another wooden spatula, sprayed it with non-stick spray, and used it to mold the batter from a dollop to a disc. I never have worked with pancake batter quite in this manner before and my wife has whipped up some thick batters before. Nevertheless, my embellishment paid dividends. I cooked up some breakfast links, a must with pancakes, and we sat in front of the political talking heads, with a large glass of cold milk, and really, really enjoyed these cakes. Like our pups, we napped after these cakes trying to watch Glenn Ford in 3:10 to Yuma. Maybe my next attempt at making these will yield the same sleepy result when we watch Russell Crowe in 3:10 to Yuma