peanut butter on pancakes
One thing I love about Sunday morning is pancakes. It's not that I really like the actual pancakes that much, but I love the process of Sunday morning pancakes at the Hadaway Household.
It starts with Bob standing in front of the sink lamenting the huge amount of dishes that were left after Saturday night. (In addition to the tradition of pancakes on Sunday morning, we have a tradition of no dish washing on Saturday nights.) After he laments awhile, he digs into the dishes. About halfway through the process, and after cleaning any key cookware, he either gives up or calls upon an offspring to continue the chore.
Meanwhile, tubs of flour, sugar, cartons of eggs, boxes of Jed baking mix and a jug of milk emerge from shelves and refrigerator to cover all available counter space. At this point, I make sure I stop entering the kitchen, as it's just too scary. Around this point in the process, Bob turns on some music (Neil Young, anyone?) which adds to the general sense of chaos. I thankfully, have a cup of coffee and an easy chair in another room to retreat to.
Sounds of sizzling come from the kitchen and then the indicator that it's almost time to eat occurs. The signal is that Bob begins to yell at any children in the house to "Come set the table! Pour some milk! Find the syrup!"
I typically wait until the second time I'm called to enter the fray. At that point I've got a plate full o' pancakes at the ready. I start by spreading each cake with peanut butter, which immediately starts to melt and get gooey. Then, a generous pour of maple syrup over the top. A big gulp of milk to clear the palate and then the eating begins.
I enjoy watching my family eat pancakes. Jed doesn't like messy food, so he cuts up his dry pancake and dips each bite into a small bowl of syrup. Ali requires equitable distribution of toppings, so butter or peanut butter needs to be carefully smeared so as to be neatly even around the edges of the pancake before being drizzled with the perfect amount of sugary sweetness. Hannah is the normal eater of the bunch. She just digs in.
Bob always makes sure the family is thoroughly stuffed with pancakes before he eats. (I think its because he wants to sit alone at the table in peace and quiet.) He pours all of the remaining batter into the skillet making pancake-zilla and then eats it. He's a butter and syrup guy, no crazy peanut butter on pancakes for him.
After everyone is thoroughly stuffed, we do a quick clean up of the counters and table, pile dishes in the sink for an unlucky washer to tackle later in the morning, and then retreat to the living room with full bellies and milk mustaches.
Life is good.
It starts with Bob standing in front of the sink lamenting the huge amount of dishes that were left after Saturday night. (In addition to the tradition of pancakes on Sunday morning, we have a tradition of no dish washing on Saturday nights.) After he laments awhile, he digs into the dishes. About halfway through the process, and after cleaning any key cookware, he either gives up or calls upon an offspring to continue the chore.
Meanwhile, tubs of flour, sugar, cartons of eggs, boxes of Jed baking mix and a jug of milk emerge from shelves and refrigerator to cover all available counter space. At this point, I make sure I stop entering the kitchen, as it's just too scary. Around this point in the process, Bob turns on some music (Neil Young, anyone?) which adds to the general sense of chaos. I thankfully, have a cup of coffee and an easy chair in another room to retreat to.
Sounds of sizzling come from the kitchen and then the indicator that it's almost time to eat occurs. The signal is that Bob begins to yell at any children in the house to "Come set the table! Pour some milk! Find the syrup!"
I typically wait until the second time I'm called to enter the fray. At that point I've got a plate full o' pancakes at the ready. I start by spreading each cake with peanut butter, which immediately starts to melt and get gooey. Then, a generous pour of maple syrup over the top. A big gulp of milk to clear the palate and then the eating begins.
I enjoy watching my family eat pancakes. Jed doesn't like messy food, so he cuts up his dry pancake and dips each bite into a small bowl of syrup. Ali requires equitable distribution of toppings, so butter or peanut butter needs to be carefully smeared so as to be neatly even around the edges of the pancake before being drizzled with the perfect amount of sugary sweetness. Hannah is the normal eater of the bunch. She just digs in.
Bob always makes sure the family is thoroughly stuffed with pancakes before he eats. (I think its because he wants to sit alone at the table in peace and quiet.) He pours all of the remaining batter into the skillet making pancake-zilla and then eats it. He's a butter and syrup guy, no crazy peanut butter on pancakes for him.
After everyone is thoroughly stuffed, we do a quick clean up of the counters and table, pile dishes in the sink for an unlucky washer to tackle later in the morning, and then retreat to the living room with full bellies and milk mustaches.
Life is good.
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