Forget about ‘fetch’ – the only thing not ever going to happen is me making pancakes from scratch that aren’t disasters. I’m not going to pretend false humility or modesty at this moment: I’m pretty fucking awesome at a pretty extensive number of things. The one thing I remain unable to consistently accomplish is making a simple fucking pancake. (I have come close in the past, but just this once.)
Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the ingredients, maybe it’s the pan, maybe it’s just my fucking ineptitude to operate when a runny batter rears its wet head – whatever the case, I can’t do it. And it’s not just the first pancake either, though I appreciate the condolences. That’s ok. I mean, I’m ok with it now. And I’m sure I could work and work and practice and perfect – but I’d rather accept this defeat, especially as it means someone else will have the opportunity to make them.
Now, if you want your pancake burnt on the outside and raw in the middle – not such an easy thing to do, by the way – you’ve come to the right guy. I’ll give you that charred-semi-semolina magic anytime. If you want it profanity-free, that’s gonna cost you fucking extra.
FYI – I’m completely aware that the protective seal from the fancy-ass syrup bottle is on the plate. It fell there when I was trying to be fucking fancy and it just felt right to leave it there.
