Blueberry Pancakes on a Sunday Night

29 Oct

I love nights like this.  Once in a while, breakfast for dinner just works.  It also rules that my wife wanted to make pancakes.  I wanted blueberry pancakes, but, alas, we had no blueberries except for blueberry pie filling.  Did this stop the woman?  Nope.  It made it all the better.

Interesting Points:

  • Once every two years, my wife will cook for me.  It’s not that she doesn’t want to.  I’m too much of a control freak to let her.  My back is thrown out at present, so I relented, to my benefit.
  • I could never figure out how come her pancakes are so fucking good.  They’re dense, flavorful, and altogether filling.  How?  She told me that she pats the cakes down as they’re cooking because she doesn’t like “cakiness.”  This is brilliant, in my opinion, because I don’t want air.  This is how she does this.
  • She strained the blueberry pie filling, but kept some of it to make blueish pancakes, which also did the trick on presentation.
  • My 4 year old child proceeded to forgo the pancakes in favor of mopping up the syrup with his bare hands.  How can you blame him?  If syrup had alcohol, Aunt Jemima would replace Jose Cuervo in a heartbeat.


  • Cold beer and cold milk in a frosty glass.

This meal would be complete with a fruity sausage, but we were too lazy to go to the store.  It didn’t matter.

Until later, drink, eat, and peace out.


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