I poured the creamy gluten free batter onto the hot pan and watched the “silver dollar” sized pancakes fluff and bubble in the oil. Goddamn that looks so good. I thought, already reaching for the honey I was going to drench my treat in.

I’d spent the better portion of my day trying to will myself into an idea for a blog post. I thought: I’ll write about texting etiquette! …No. I’ll write about my feelings toward certain men in my life that are itching away at my subconscious! …I can’t formulate my feelings on that yet. My brain kept buzzing lazily around the idea that these guys could then read the post and then know all this important stuff about how I feel (which, let’s be honest, they probably could already guess at or know at this point) but, the fear stayed my hand and I instead turned to my comfort food: pancakes.

When I was a little girl, my dad would set out the ingredients for home-made ‘cakes and we’d carefully pour the dry ingredients into a bowl that felt like the size of a small tub. I’d then be given the very important task of mixing the dry ingredients before the wet ones would be added. I took my job very seriously, until realizing that when all the flour and baking powder and sugar has been added, one can make the best mountains and valleys with a spoon. Dad always cracked the egg into the allotted valley I deemed fit for the yellow egg and then, with great joy, I’d smoosh the egg into the white flour mixture and watch as the batter turned into the creamy goo I’d get to lick out of the bottom after all the contents had been poured onto the buttered skillet.

To say I have a soft spot for pancakes is a gross understatement: it is one of my favorite treats. I find it says “I love you” in the morning when I’ve made it for boyfriends in the past, and its says “I love you” in the evenings when I am alone in my kitchen, writing about the woes of being single. I always take my flap-jacks with honey. Occasionally I may douse them in maple syrup, but only if there is no honey around. I don’t know where I picked up my honey habit, but I don’t remember not eating it. And, frankly, I’m surprised so many people I’ve run in to don’t eat their pancakes with honey: it’s delicious! Sticky, sweet, gooey, tangy (almost) it’s a fantastic companion to a hot ‘cake and goes really well with a cool cup of milk.

This is incredible. Give me a food topic to work on, and I’ll go on for days. Get me to sit down and work out my anxiety, excitement and worry over the dumb boys in my life and I’m stuck.

When in doubt, go for the breakfast comfort food, that’s my honey :) They’ll never get confusing on me.

February 11, 2013 at 8:07 am by Natalie Allen