Pancakes, Pans and Parenting...

Didn't get the chance to post this yesterday but better late than never...

Cold, wet and a Cup Final to go to. A proper breakfast is called for.

Luckily the bottomless jar of Instant Pancake Mix - see earlier post and/or (although preferably not 'or' now I come to think of it...) Nigella Express.

Give the jar is essentially filled with 600g flour and you use 150g a time, even non mathematicians such as myself will not have too much trouble in working out that is four lots of pancakes. Except this particular jar seems to have gone on for ever. Mind you - why would I complain about that?!

The reason I am revisiting this recipe is twofold:

1) when Nigella says use whole or semi skimmed milk, it is possibly advisable to use whole or semi-skimmed milk. Except we had run out and as I had already got the egg in the bowl and the whisk in my hand I wasn't going to let such details thwart my lust for fluffy pancakes. And to be fair, skimmed is not a total disaster - just makes it all a little limp.

2) no matter how tired please pay attention to your cookware. Foolishly grabbed the first pan I found, not clocking it was the casualty of the mirin salmon debacle (see previous). Even though it has been utterly and throughly cleaned it clearly harbours a grudge for within seconds the house stank of the ghost of aforementioned fish and this is not an ideal accompaniment to maple syrup. Had to start all over again with a friendlier skillet...

The baby rubbed her hands with glee at the thought of a breakfast that didn't involve Hovis or Shreddies but was strangely reticent when it came to tucking in (yes, yes, the salmony reek probably played its part)

A little psychology soon solved that though - "I bet you can't get the pancake on mummy's big girl fork...wow...you are so clever" repeated until the plate was clean.

Delicious and warming though the repast may have been at the time, within minutes of arriving at Wembley I was frozen solid (indeed, I am only now regaining sensation in my toes). I was also ravenous and having mislaid my essential football-match Fruitellas before they had even been opened, rued the frying pan debacle that cost me that extra serving of brekkie.

But hey - we won. And what a great afternoon it was. And the jar still isn;t empty! So hey Mr Rooney - my next batch is for you