2nd grade
In remember trying to cook pancakes for my mother who was not feeling well that morning. It was a saturday. I had seen her make pancakes often so surely I could do the same. I got out a frying pan and put a little oil in it and set in on medium to heat. I got out the pancake mix, a bowl and whipped up some pancake batter. All was well and I was sure of success.
I was bubbling over with excitement as I was doing this all by myself. I put the batter in the pan and made a 3 small rings that would soon be 3 small pan cakes. I waited as my mother had told me to watch. When the batter becan to have bubbles in it, it was then time to flip to the other side. That was the key. Bubbles meant that bottom side was golden brown and properly cooked.
As I had never cooked a pancake before, I had never flipped a pancake before and in lies the rub. Flipping the pancakes. I tried to flip one. It was slighlty bigger than my spatula so it broke. I got if flipped in pieces. I tried another. I flipped and it landed on top of the other golden brown pancake. I tried the third and it partially landed on the bottom and side of the pan.
I had a mess.
It was salvageable. Eggs can be overeasy or scrabbled, can't they? Pancakes should work the same. So with that in mind I scrambled the pancakes. I got a big spoon and poured the rest of the batter in the pan and scrambled up a big goopy mess of pancakes. It was my creation. I made sure it was cooked and they were.
I got a plate and place a nice, big hunk of scrambled pancakes on a plate and poured syrup on top. I put the plate on a tray, poured a small glass of orange juice and proceeded to take the tray to my mother. She was upstairs in bed and in I walked, proud of my accomplishment. My mother took the tray and I announced I had something new. Scrambled Pancakes.
I waited for my mother to try them. She took a forkful and stopped. She drank juice. I waited for her to eat it all and tell me how wonderful they were. She then took another small forkful and put the fork down. I asked why she was not eating. She said she needed to rest and asked me to clean up the pan and put the things away I had used. I did. And I then went on to do other things. I never saw her eat the rest but just about all my childhood life I assumed she did.
I look back on it now and I know she must NOT have eaten those pancakes. Scrambled pancakes! What a mess that must have been. At least she was nice enought not to crush me in my first attempt at cooking. You know, I think I will try this recipe again now, just to see if scrambled pancakes can be a good reality and something good to eat.
Move over Emeril! I am kicking it up a notch with scrambled pancakes.
BAM!
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