Theory of Pancake Relativity

It was on a trip to Tennessee in the 1970s that I met some relatives of my daughter’s father.  That’s a round-about way of saying “some relatives of my now ex-husband.”  These relatives lived in a big 1800s farmhouse way out in the country in a place called Franklin, which is near Nashville.  At breakfast on the first morning the farmhouse table was loaded with stacks of pancakes along with syrup and a big jar of peanut butter.  I watched as everyone enthusiastically spread peanut butter on top of their hot pancakes and then poured on the syrup.  No butter in sight.

I loved peanut butter.  Just not on my pancakes.  In my entire life I had never spread anything other than butter on my pancakes.  It almost seemed sacrilegious to eat pancakes without butter.  I was in my early twenties and had not yet discovered dining adventures to expand my palate horizons.  So when one of the cousins passed me the peanut butter jar, I was still so wet behind the ears that I was too timid to insist on butter.   

I slowly spread the peanut butter on my pancakes – very, very slowly so as to prolong the moment when I would have to taste this concoction.  I suppose I took a bit too long because one of the cousins noticed and said, “Have you ever eaten pancakes with peanut butter?”  When I gave a negative answer, then all eyes were on me.  Feeling a bit like an insect under an entomologist’s microscope, I brought the fork ever so slowly to my mouth. 

Everyone at the table had gone quiet as they waited for my reaction.  I chewed my first bite slowly.  I swallowed, smiled, and said, “This is really good.”  And it was!  I haven’t buttered my pancakes since that long-ago morning in Tennessee.  If you give me pancakes, then give me the peanut butter jar!

As a young wife and mother I mastered cooking pancakes early on.  The one thing I didn’t like about a pancake breakfast was that we ate separately.  Pancakes cool down quickly so the first pancake was always for my little daughter, Ashlee.  She ate while I started the next batch.  The next four to eight pancakes were for my husband and he ate while I was cooking the last batch of pancakes for myself.  Consequently, I always ended up eating alone.  That’s how my Mama cooked pancakes when I was a little girl and so that’s how I thought everyone did it.

My Big Pancake Revelation

It was the 1980s when I figured out a way for everyone in the family to eat hot pancakes at the same time.  It was my very own pancake brainstorm.  I was so swelled up with pride at my own cleverness that my big rad 80s hair almost touched the ceiling!  My large padded shoulders were thrown back with smugness and my collar was so filled with self-importance that it was standing up on its on!  

On the day of my Big Pancake Revelation I turned the oven to its lowest setting and put an oven-safe glass plate on the top rack.  When my oven reached the lowest temp, I turned it off.  When the first of the pancakes were done, I moved them from the griddle to the warm plate in the oven.  The oven was hot enough to keep the first pancakes warm until the last ones were cooked, but not hot enough to over-cook them.  At that moment, I felt like a female Einstein who had just discovered The Theory of Pancake Relativity!  The truth of the matter is that the light bulb had finally come on.

Tips for Pancakes:  Although I don’t consider myself a pancake connoisseur, the truth is that I have baked quite a few flapjacks over the years.  Depending on what is on my pantry shelf, I might use a homemade-from-scratch recipe or it could just as easily be one of those out-of-the-box mixes.  What I discovered through trial and error is that one should never over-stir the batter and that you don’t need to beat out every last lump.  Those little lumps are fine.  You can take my word for it – if you beat the heck out of the batter, the end result is always tough pancakes.

To determine if your griddle or pan is hot enough to start cooking pancakes, simply sprinkle a few drops of water on the surface.  If the water sizzles and evaporates quickly, then it’s hot enough.  How do you know when to flip?  Wait until there are bubbles forming on the top surface of the pancakes. Then flip!  Remember to put an oven-safe plate on the rack of a warm oven to keep your first pancakes warm while you cook the rest.  Oh wait.  Everyone already knew that one but me.

Oh, and don’t forget the peanut butter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I’ve also been reminiscing, pondering, and musing on these topics:

One my early dates with the hubby
My first lesson on biscuit making

The lost art of letter writing
Cups for hot mochas.Say Good Night Gracie.
My first visit to the library with my Mama
Driving Mama over the Edge
It’s a Little Off the Wall
Crushing on The Professor
The Avocado Tree
From Baby Food Jars to Peanut Butter Jars
Christmas Memories
Theory of Pancake Relativity
The Pajama Party

* * * * *

From Baby Food Jars to Peanut Butter Jars

Who doesn’t love peanut butter?  I would venture to say that the majority of baby boomers can’t remember a childhood without peanut butter.  Smooth or crunchy?   Smooth has always gotten my vote.  Whenever I bite into a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, it almost always will transport me back to my childhood.

When I was a little girl, Peter Pan was the peanut butter of choice in our house.  My earliest memory of peanut butter is walking through the A&P grocery store along side my Mama, who was pushing the grocery cart with my younger brother, Garry, seated facing her with his chubby little legs dangling.  He was about three years old at the time and my Mama was always looking for something that he might like to eat.  You see, long after most toddlers had left behind their baby food jars, my three-year-old brother still loved his baby food and that’s basically all she could get him to eat.  Sorry to “out” you on this one, Garry, but the truth will always come out.  What else are big sisters for?

The only other thing Garry really liked to eat was pieces of loaf bread dunked into a glass of milk.  Since he seemed to like it so much, I decided to give it a try.  Once.  Ugh.  Soggy bread is not my idea of a feast.  But my little brother sure loved it!  Mama often fretted that if she could not find something he would eat, when he started school she would be putting slices of loaf bread and baby food jars in his lunch box. 

On this particular trip to the A&P my Mama spied something on the grocery shelf.  She picked up a jar of Peter Pan and held it out toward Garry.  “Do you want to try some peanut butter, son?”  He gave a quick negative shake of his head.  Mama opened the jar right there in the aisle of the grocery store and dipped her finger in it.  She held out the small dollop of peanut butter toward Garry.  He put his hand over his mouth, shook his head vigorously and firmly said, “No!”

Mama licked the peanut butter off her finger and held the jar toward me.  I dipped my finger in the jar to scoop out some peanut butter for myself.  As we licked our fingers clean, Mama and I made those “Mmmmmm, good” noises.  Garry looked at us warily from his perch in the grocery cart.  “It is soooo good,” I said as I tried to coax him into trying it.  “It tastes like candy,” I said.  Any other time my Mama would have scolded me for telling an outright lie but she must have been desperate to find anything her baby boy would like to eat besides baby food.  But then she had never before opened a jar in the middle of the A&P and started eating before she paid for it!  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

You could see that Garry was considering what I had said because he moved his hand away from his mouth and eyed the peanut butter jar with interest.  I dipped another finger in the peanut butter and held it toward him.  He backed his head away but didn’t cover his mouth this time.  He was undecided about this brown stuff on our fingers because it didn’t look like any candy he had ever seen.

Mama and I both licked a couple more dollops off our fingers, telling him how delicious that “peanut butter candy” was to eat.  Then I offered Garry another small dollop of peanut butter and this time he cautiously licked some of it off.  He didn’t spit it out and we could tell he was testing it on his palate.  We waited anxiously for the verdict.

“More,” he said.  Mama handed Garry the whole jar.  Thus began my brother’s life-long love affair with peanut butter.  Since he already liked loaf bread, getting him to eat it on a sandwich was not difficult.   Mama started weaning him off his baby food habit but still worried that his main diet consisted mostly of peanut butter, bread, and milk.  He did finally start eating regular food but only narrowly before he started first grade.  I am not sure, but I think I may have shamed him into it with my constant mockery of his baby-food habit. 

My Mama still keeps a big jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter.  When Garry comes over to her house, he will pour a big glass of milk and chow down on a plain peanut butter sandwich.  I’m still not sure if he knows it is not candy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve also been reminiscing, pondering, and musing on these topics:

One my early dates with the hubby
My first lesson on biscuit making

The lost art of letter writing
Cups for hot mochas.Say Good Night Gracie.
My first visit to the library with my Mama
Driving Mama over the Edge
It’s a Little Off the Wall
Crushing on The Professor
The Avocado Tree
From Baby Food Jars to Peanut Butter Jars
Christmas Memories
Theory of Pancake Relativity
The Pajama Party