food network star

I didn’t have television in Phoenix or Hartford so being back at my parent’s house has been an adjustment. I always forget how much I enjoy watching reality television – especially the shows that detail the lives of celebrities passed their prime.

I have also become a fan of food television, or is it the slow fat kid channel? I’m not sure what it’s called but we have been watching a lot of programs that show the cooking and eating of food. This has worked out brilliantly for me since that is what I tend to be doing while watching television.

I watched a show about a restaurant that I used to frequent when I lived in Phoenix and that made me want pancakes. There were other shows after that on pancakes and how different places make them. This inspired me to make pancakes for myself instead of my original impulse to have McDonald’s or Cracker Barrel make me pancakes. My parents are away at the family reunion so, while we do a lot of our own cooking, we’ve become too lazy to do anything.

Making the pancake batter was surprisingly simple. I have made pancake batter before – its not rocket science but this one show used their Kitchen Aide to make sure the batter was perfect, which I did as well. Then, following their advice to cook the pancakes I made breakfast for Chaos Bean and myself.

Of course, this didn’t go as planned. First, the Food Network shows you how to make something but it doesn’t condescend to describe cleaning up after the cooking. So while I had followed their directions to the letter and eventually enjoyed the pancakes cleaning the mess took twice as long as the preparation and eating did together. Also, one batch of pancakes shouldn’t make that much mess because I used the Kitchen Aide but my father is a chef and the Kitchen Aide on our counter is the size of a Volkswagen. We have others but I have no idea where in the equipment pantry they are or if I can lift them.

I also cooked the pancakes using the wrong frying pan, and thank Jesus (or whatever demon you worship)* that Chaos Bean realized this before I washed this – not realizing that some pots and pans, while mixed with the pedestrian pots and pans are not for everyday or untrained use. These same pots and pans also need to be washed with care. These same super pans burned the pancakes because, well, they’re magic. I’m Lutheran; we don’t have magic, free well, or predetermination. We do have Oxford Commas, chips on our shoulders, and an engrossment with bar-shaped desserts and cookies but no magic. Chaos Bean was gracious and said they were, “too brown,” which would have been like saying that Hiroshima had experienced urban renewal.

If I hadn’t used the wrong pan the pancakes would have still been terrible. I know this because when I realized how I was making them wrong I adjusted how I was cooking so that I could give Chaos Bean a breakfast of pancakes that didn’t look like so many denizens of Long Island and Phoenix have been in the sun too long. Chaos Bean has an awful job, I know because she hired me on part-time, and she deserves a good breakfast because that’s the only good thing that may happen in her day.

My point is this: I used special flour for baking special breads and this flour is very salty. My uncle is talented in making pancakes and has pioneered methods of putting fruit in them without burning them or the pancakes being disgusting. My friend, who writes Suburban Island, makes the best reservations for breakfast that you’ll ever take someone up on. I have pioneered a new pancake: the Pretzel Pancake. So, beyond making a mess of the kitchen and being over-cooked they were salty. I was really disappointed that I hadn’t gotten good pancakes out of the deal and had to face an enormous mess as a result of my efforts. I wonder if this was some sort of rare kitchen karma.

To ward against this happening again Chaos Bean and I went to the place where restaurants buy their food and stocked up on things you throw in the oven and then take back out. Sure, it’s not nutritious, delicious, or in any way something you should ingest but so far its not been burnt or tasted the way it should not so we’re going with what is successful.

*Spritopias: now 33% more inclusive and fortified with your daily serving of political correctness.

Comments

[Suburban Island]

Mixers and me don't mix. I had a traumatic event involving a mixer and my fingers (luckily it was a hand mixer). I'd link to it but it's on diaryland somewhere.