The great pancake incident of 2005

“If forecasts of snow send you to the grocery store for milk, bread, eggs, and toilet paper, add 10. If forecasts of snow cause you to reminisce about how you used to deal with snowstorms in Buffalo, subtract 10.

Why it matters: If North Carolinians want to prepare for a two-week blizzard — even if the forecast is only for a ‘light dusting’ — that’s our right, and frankly, we don’t care how it’s done in Buffalo. This ain’t Buffalo.” -From the “Are you a true Tar Heel?” quiz in the February 2005 issue of Our State magazine

I have never gone to the store to get milk and bread just because it was snowing, but I have upped my shopping date because of a forecasted snowstorm. After all, you can’t make snowcream without milk! The worst is when you were needing milk and bread anyway, and there are all these newspeople at the store, showing how cleaned out the bread aisle is, and you want to say, “I needed this anyway! I’m not buying it because of the snow, I swear!”

We got some snow and ice this weekend. It’s times like these that I miss living off a main road, because the roads in our neighborhood look fine, but the news showed a lot of ice on the roads in Greensboro. It used to be that we could just look outside our window and see how fast the traffic was going to know if it was safe to go out. Ah, well, Mike needs to work on some homework anyway, so we won’t be going out regardless.

This morning I got up to see if church was cancelled, and after seeing that it was, I crawled back into bed.

Mike (opening one eye): Is church cancelled?
Kari: Yes.
Mike: *goes back to sleep*
Kari: Let’s make pancakes!
Mike: Oka–wait, you don’t even like pancakes!
Kari: I know. But I want some today. Fluffy ones. And an egg. Over medium.
Mike: Am I dreaming? Because you don’t like eggs, either. Can I go back to sleep?

I waited a reasonable amount of time before asking again, and we finally went down to make pancakes. We keep our flour and sugar in Rubbermaid containers, and in a fit of genius, I had taken the Bisquick and put it in a plastic container as well, cutting off the pertinent part of the box and taping it to the top. Or so I thought. We usually use Bisquick for biscuits, you see, and it’s been a long time since we made pancakes, so I didn’t get all of the pancake information. Not my finest moment, apparently. So we called my mom.

Dad: *sleepily* Hello?
Kari: Can I speak to Mom?
Dad: Only after you speak to me for a minute.
Kari: But I have a question.
Dad: Maybe I can answer your question.
Kari: How do you make pancakes?
Dad: You get the Aunt Jemima mix, and you add . . . I’ll get your mom.
Mom: Hello?
Kari: How do you make pancakes?
Mom: With Aunt Jemima mix?
Kari: You didn’t use Aunt Jemima mix when I lived there. What is this? No, Bisquick. I cut off the, uh, wrong part of the box.
Mom: I don’t have any Bisquick. But I think you add some water. Or maybe it’s milk. And an egg. And a little oil or butter.
Kari: Um . . .
Mom: Just make sure it’s the right consistency.
Kari: Um, okay, I guess. Thanks!

I relayed this information to Mike and we started trying to decide what to do. We had a mix for some buckwheat pancakes, so we decided to use similar amounts of oil and water and egg. The problem was that I was armed with my mom’s information (“make sure it’s the right consistency”) and before I realized what was going on, Mike had put more water than I thought advisable. And we didn’t have any Bisquick left.

Kari: I just wanted some pancakes.
Mike: Well, you’ve got a comedy of errors instead.

The batter was pretty thin, but we made a pancake with it, just to see. It turned out okay, but I really wanted fluffy pancakes, so we thought maybe we should add some flour. And then Mike added Splenda, because he said, “They should be a little sweet, like how I used to make them at McDonald’s. (In fact, he mentioned working at McDonald’s at least ten times in the time we were trying to make the pancakes. Apparently breakfast food makes him reminisce.) The pancakes from the extra-flour batch were actually less fluffy than the first one, but we decided we could just put two together and pretend that it was one. And Mike made my delicious egg for me, and I got some toast to sop up the yolk.

I poured the milk (we got it earlier this week, okay? We didn’t have to go to the store to get it just because of the snow, I swear), and we sat down to eat. After all that, they tasted very good, even if they weren’t quite what I had in mind. And we put Bisquick on the grocery list, so hopefully we can prevent situations like this in, say, five or so years, when I decide I want pancakes again.

Mike: This doesn’t need to be a blog entry, okay?
Kari: Oh, it’s too late. I’ve already got it all written out in my head.

(He just came in and saw the title and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There haven’t been any great pancakes in 2005.” hehe.)

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