I cannot make pancakes.
There, I've said it. That's my shocking secret. I can't make pancakes. Actually I can make pancakes, but I can never make pancakes successfully. And I am ashamed of it. Along with the fact that I own Contraband: The Best of Men at Work, it is one of the most abhorrent things about me. I am sort of nervous to publish either of those facts in the public sphere because I may never have a girlfriend again. If I was a single lady out there in the world I wouldn't date me knowing that I can't make pancakes and own a CD with the song "Man With Two Hearts." But it's true, and I guess that I have nothing to hide, so I there it is. Out in the open. I can't make pancakes. Let's see if we can figure out why.
First of all, I am lazy. I never make pancakes from scratch. I buy the box of mix that you can use to make pancakes, waffles, biscuits, and an array of other things. You could probably also make crepes with it too, I don't know. I know, I shouldn't use that stuff. No product, especially a food product, should be so versatile. But the point is that I am lazy and I don't want to make the batter from scratch. And the point that comes from that point is that I couldn't have really messed up the batter. It's not like I could have put in too much flour or baking something...no. All I have to do is add water. It's true. Please allow me quote you directions DIRECTLY FROM THE BOX:
Place mix and water in bowl. Stir until lumps break up. Pour 1/4 cup batter for each pancake onto hot griddle. Turn pancakes when edges look cooked. Turn only once.
Yeah, the directions are that easy. And there is a helpful chart that shows how much water to add to how much mix to make how many pancakes. Simple as pie, which is actually fairly complicated, but it's really easy anyway. So the bottom line is that even a retarded retard could mix it right. So I don't think that that is why I can't make pancakes.
Yet I still seem to mess it up. No matter how I adjust the amount of water it never seems to be the right consistency. It's always seemingly too thin and it runs all over the place. If I make it thick is still runs all over the place. It won't sit there nicely in the pan or on the griddle like it always does on TV. Oh, and like it always does in real life when anyone halfway competent other than me makes them. Which leads me to...
The pan. Not the pan so much as the heat under it. Or lack of heat under it. I am not sure which. I do the water thing, where I flick a little water from my fingers onto the pan so I can watch it boil off immediately. That means that the pan is ready. Or so I thought. But the pan always seems to be too cold. So every once in a while I amp up the heat and then I manage to get a pancake that is burned on one said and undone on the other. What the hell's with that? Oh, and I can hear you saying "Hey, dumbass, pick a heat that is in the middle." Well my friend, I hate to break it you, but I have already thought of that. The thing about that is, Company, that finding that middle heat is a physical impossibility. I have had my friends in the physics department at Oregon State University studying the matter and they have yet to find a happy medium. So I am going to go out on a limb and say that it's impossible. Foxy Roxy, Guy H, Melanie Stevenson of Huntsville, AL, all you people who can make pancakes successfully, I think that you are lying. My physics friends said that it was impossible. Unless Ronco has come out with some appliance that everyone knows about but me.
So anyway, I am going to attempt to make pancakes for dinner tonight. Because they sound good. I know that I can never make them successful, so I don't go into this worrying too much or expecting a miracle. And I know that in the end whatever I make will be edible when drenched in butter and syrup. And one would think that I will eventually get it right. I mean, the odds say that I have to, right? You know, if you put a million monkeys at a million typewriters and eventually you will get Shakespeare, right? I guess I'd better get cooking.