My last pancake project

Over the course of my entire childhood and almost all of my teenage years, I could not--no matter how hard I tried--understand how anyone in their right taste buds could like peanut butter. To me peanut butter was a gooey, sticky, nasty mess of a spread that wished it could be as good as lunch meat, but failed miserably. Well, actually, it didn't fail so much at its aspiration to make its way into the hearts of kids and into their school lunch boxes. All the choosy moms loved it, so I heard on TV just about a dozen times a day. But that was not enough to convince me.

My sister, on the other hand, was one of those peanut butter lovers. And to my disgust, she could actually eat it by the spoonful--yes, plain!--if and when she so desired to. What was worse than peanut butter alone was its frightful companionship with its gloppy friend, jelly. Why these two concoctions had to ruin the perfectly adequate bread in my sister's brown paper lunch bag and the lunch bags and boxes of all those other peanut butter fans at school, I had no idea.

I was off to college and in a new (well, actually, dreadful old) dorm with a roommate I knew nothing about save that her birthday was move-in day. In the first week of our "getting-to-know-each other" routine at our far-away school on the outskirts of Ohio, we quickly discovered our mutual love for cooking, baking, and eating food. Wonderful! I thought. A fellow "foodie." It's my lucky day. What was one of her favorite foods, you ask? Peanut butter.

To make an unnecessarily long introduction to this final blog a little shorter, it will suffice to say that I am a successfully recovered peanut butter hater. Or, to put it more clearly, I love--let me repeat--LOVE peanut butter. It is bread's most stunning outfit, jelly's lasting soul-mate, my perfect comfort food. I love peanut butter. Who wouldn't?

So, for the final post on this totally random and fun blog (hopefully, fun for you, too), I will pay tribute to one of my favorite food combinations--pancake style.

My plan: Make a pancake version of peanut butter and jelly. Know before it's even cooked how delicious this one will be.

My method: First, I made the pancake batter and stirred into the batter a few spoonfuls of peanut butter. I cooked this simple (but amazing, as predetermined by me) pancake in my skillet. But...while it was cooking, I made a banana and jelly sauce, by heating my favorite jelly (boysenberry) until it loosened up, and then adding sliced bananas once it was taken off the stove. (Did I mention that the only thing that rivals a PB&J is a PB, J&B?) I topped my peanut buttery pancake with my fruit sauce and wiped my drool off the counter. (Well, I didn't drool; I can't have you really thinking that. I just had to say it for effect, which, undoubtedly, has been ruined by my desire to clarify and save my composed image.)

My verdict: C'mon...Need you really ask? I think you know.

To all of my faithful blog followers (those who were forced to read for class participation points and those of you who proved the depths of our friendship by reading this nonsense just because): thank you. It's been fun. Well, at least it's been fun for me. I've had spaghetti and meatball pancakes, mac and cheese pancakes, omelet pancakes, hamburger pancakes, "toast" pancakes, and peanut butter and jelly pancakes, in addition to remembering the devilishly good Australian pancakes I had down under. Weird. But exactly the break I was looking for in my insane 21-credit semester. Now to work off those carbs...

~Happy Pancake Eating~

You haven't tried a pancake like the pancakes down under

It wouldn’t be fair to conclude this pancake blog project without paying to tribute to one of the greatest inspirations for this pancake blogging endeavor of mine. This past December, I travelled to the magnificent Sydney, Australia for a week and a half. And, let me tell you, I was not at my usual level of perkiness on the day of my return trip. Sydney was fabulous. It was almost Christmas, but the Sydney weather would have made you think otherwise. In the middle of December, there were dozens of street vendors, musicians, and master barbeque and street food cooks filling up the sunny walkways on the strips of Sydney Harbor. If I had packed a bigger bag, you may not have seen me return to the chilly states. I was much too enamored by those adorably entertaining Australian accents, the dazzling waterfront views, and, well, everything else you can find in Sydney.

Yes, I could probably go on about Australia forever. But I will not, as it is time for me to somehow relate this trip to food (and more specifically, pancakes), and also avoid making you uncontrollably jealous of my time spent touring this energetic, spectacular city.

My favorite eating adventures undoubtedly occurred in the bustling street between crowds of people and eager-to-sell vendors offering everything from boomerangs to mocha crème-filled cannolis. I loved stopping for lunch and dinner at all of these humble little tents for several reasons. 1) The electric atmosphere in the streets was unmatched and couldn’t be experienced in the booth of a sit-down restaurant. 2) The food was a mouthwatering, unrivaled experience in itself. You got that “made with love” touch added to every drippy cheese-and-spinach Indian flatbread and everything chocolate-covered took you to a whole other emotional sinfully delicious world. 3) The price kept you deprived of the necessity to fast for the majority of the trip after your wallet was emptied on over-priced restaurant food in the first few days. Yes, I would have been a poor, hungry American had it not been for that good ol’ street food.

Okay…Pancakes, I know. Well, I can’t say I didn’t occasionally stop by the traditional sit-down eatery. But when I did, I made darn sure it would be worth every penny. It had to be something authentic, something as un-American and non-chain as it gets. (Unless, of course, it was an Australian chain that exhibited enough originality and flair to nix my prejudice against chain restaurants, which indeed happened to be the situation in the case of my pancake restaurant.) Apparently, “Pancake on the Rocks” is a hit in Sydney Harbor, drawing hefty crowds all day long to drool over its ridiculously scrumptious pancake masterpieces. I was happy to hear of its noteworthy reputation, but I was sold quite easily after the word “pancakes.”

And, to my extreme delight, this pancake house fit to cater a party in Heaven fulfilled every one of my highest hopes. The pancake varieties were endless, most topped with nothing less than a billion grams of fat and sugar, ranging from whipped cream and fruit to nuts and, yes, ice cream! The picture of the “Devil’s Delight” pancake says it all. Nonetheless, it’s worth mentioning the astounding variety of savory pancake options provided on their oversized menu. The second time I paid a visit to this marvelous pancake restaurant, I made sure to give the non-sweet pancakes a try, and the “Potato-Au-Gratin” pancake—replete with onions, melted cheese, hollandaise, grilled pineapple and banana—made me almost tear and toss my plane ticket home.

So here I am, four months later, still salivating at the mere recollection of those unbeatable pancakes. But I suppose I owe that experience more than a thank you for a few unforgettable meals. After all, this Sydney pancake restaurant gave me a strangely unique idea for what could have been a pretty dull blog.

~Happy Pancake Eating~

http://pancakesontherocks.com.au/home