I Found My Thrill

This morning I awoke in a state of panic. I rustled the pillows away and looked at the clock. 8:30.  I wanted to relax and surrender myself to the last remains of slumber, but it was not meant to be. For some reason I felt guilty for sleeping so late. My heart was going to explode from my chest, beating hard and fast. With a very audible sigh (as if anybody were listening) I opened the blinds and let the California sunshine in. Whatever nightmare thrust me into the heights of a fight-or-flight adrenalin rush promptly dissipated, even though my heart continued its wild dance all over my chest for several minutes.

I grabbed my book from the nightstand, propped up my pillows, and started reading. Husband was moving about in the kitchen and I knew a strong cup of coffee was coming my way. I was still in bed, engrossed in my new Margaret Atwood when I heard the TV come to life. The Beasties were up. In my previous life I would have jumped from the bed, finished my morning clean-up routine, got dressed, and stood in the middle of the kitchen contemplating the breakfast choices. Not today.

After an hour or so of reading, I dragged my new laptop to bed and greeted the world. I connected with my sister on Skype. My geeky American Husband appeared with a cup of Turkish coffee and immediately turned the webcam button on. My sister chuckled when I groaned, but then her geeky German husband turned on their video.While the men spent way too much time waving to one another and grinning, the two of us were rolling our eyes in exasperation. I was completely justified in feeling non-presentable with mussed morning hair and 90s-style eyeglasses that made me look like an owl. On the other side of the ocean my sister was her usual beautiful, elegant, sophisticated European self, composed, relaxed, looking like a million bucks without any make-up, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I love her too much to hate her She was enjoying a nice glass of Rhine rosé in their apartment in Frankfurt, Germany. And she did recognize the pajamas she left in our house on their last trip at Christmas. On me. Even with the distraction of horribly huge, round glasses that stared at her from the screen. Ooops.

The sun was burning  through the window, planting its fiery rays all over my body, making me sweat. I decided I was going to put up the fight. I ignored the sun’s unrelenting touch and continued with my delectable computer activities. I commented on Facebook, read the Twitter feed, deleted several spammy e-mails from my in-box, and listened to some old rock-and-roll my cousin sent my way via YouTube (wrong time of the day for head-banging)!

When 11:00 o’clock rolled around I could not take it any more. In no time, I went through my morning routine, opened the door to the patio to say hello to my plants and found myself in the kitchen. Breakfast is my least favorite meal, but I promised myself that as long as there were children in the house, I would keep making an effort. It was too late for a yeast dough. With only three eggs in the fridge all the eggy dishes were scratched. No fresh bread and cream cheese to accompany red roasted peppers. A couple of overripe bananas were trying to hint and  nudge me towards making muffins. Husband is quick to throw bananas out, so I have to be fast with them if there is ever to be banana bread or muffins in this house. One more day and he’d toss them.  But after my last unsuccessful attempt I did not feel inspired.

A container of plump, firm blueberries finally lit the “Eureka” bulb in my head and I knew I was going to make blueberry pancakes. I donned my pinafore (such a beautiful word, isn’t it?) and immediately started fancying myself a bona-fide 50s housewife. Joyfully humming and secretly crushing on Antonio Banderas (thankfully that was the last song I heard that morning on YouTube –  it could have been as easily Whitesnake or AC/DC, which would not have been romantic at all), I scooped the flour into a bright, lime-green bowl, and measured out some salt, sugar, baking powder, and baking soda. We were out of buttermilk, but I whisked some of my home-made yogurt (I promise  I’ll post the recipe soon) and milk, added the eggs, poured it into the flour and finished it all with melted butter. In the meantime the bright lime-green griddle was heating up on the stove (pure coincidence – I do not color-coordinate my cooking vessels! But it sure looked cool.)

The screeching of the fighting Beasties brought me back from my reverie. I did not regret the disappearance of my rendition of the Stepford wife, but I still wanted to be seduced by the velvety, sibilant tenor of the Spaniard. Somewhat resentfully I continued with the pancakes, ladling the batter into the sizzling pan and throwing the berries, imagining they were darts, trying to plant them evenly. Even though Sponge Bob in the background was not much of an inspiration, the pancakes came out fluffy, fragrant, and lightly browned. The Beasties set the table and Husband poured the milk and plopped the bottle of real maple syrup on the table (I always chuckle when I remember the day I introduced the real deal instead of Mrs.Butterworth’s. Both Husband and then ten-year-old College Kritter rebelled, claiming that the fake stuff tastes more “maple-y” than the genuine article. Fortunately, those inglorious days are far behind us and I am now surrounded by some more refined palates).

I poured a couple of spoonfuls of my apricot jam in one small pan, and a couple of spoonfuls of my plum jam in another, added a bit of water to both and warmed them up to serve like a sauce, just to offer a choice. Lingering traces of my Stepford mood. The morning repast went splendidly. I never tire of the grunts and groans of satisfied bellies. I ate my pancakes with just a dollop of dark plum jam smeared around the surface. I smiled contentedly looking at my happy family. But one little part of that smile was definitely meant for Señor Banderas whose dark eyes winked at me hidden in my blueberries.

BLUEBERRY BUTTERMILK PANCAKES

Ingredients

• 2 cups all purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 3 Tbsp sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 1/2 cup buttermilk (or a mix of 1 cup of yogurt and the rest of milk)
• 2 Tbsp melted butter
• 1 cup blueberries
• 1 Tbsp of butter

Directions:

Mix flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and sugar in a bowl. Separately mix the eggs and buttermilk in another bowl. Add the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Mix until the batter just comes together. Add the melted butter. Mix lightly.

Heat a griddle to medium to medium-low heat. Grease the griddle with butter. Ladle the pancake batter onto the griddle (I usually use ¼ cup measure). Plant blueberries evenly, and push them in a bit. When air bubbles start to appear on the surface of the pancakes, flip them over. It takes less time to get that golden-brown effect on other side. Serve immediately.

I am submitting my pancakes to Two For Tuesdays event hosted by Heather at Girliechef.