Most people wouldn’t think much of it, but as someone who learned to appreciate the little victories in the George Costanza phase of her life, this was big.
So big that I high-fived myself.
I was living on a high all morning long because of this culinary accomplishment.
But I couldn’t take all the credit. Someone else helped contribute to the great mood. It was Trisha. Yup. Trisha Yearwood. I’ve never met her, but I’d like to thank her for helping me become mom extraordinaire on Sunday morning. She’s the one responsible for this culinary masterpiece that took place.
I knew she was a country superstar, I knew it and I was a fan, but I had no idea that her skills extended to the kitchen. And in truth I wouldn’t have experienced such a spectacular morning had I not been the jackass that forgot to pickup the Bisquick or Aunt Jemima instant pancake mix at the market. But this dumbass transgression proved to be an awesome moment of creation for me.
I had promised my son pancakes in the morning, and seeing how I was too lazy to pack the kids into the car and go to the supermarket — moms know that going to the market is an entire mission that needs to be prepared for and getting the kids in and out of the car takes like the longest ten minutes ever — I really didn’t have the energy that morning to embark on a supermarket mission with the loading and unloading. So I looked in the pantry and noticed I had plenty of ingredients to whip something else from scratch … all I needed was a recipe.
And this is where Ms. Yearwood came in. I found her on the Food Network and decided to give her recipe a try.
This yielded the perfect pancake.
I couldn’t believe it. I was just talking about this with fellow blogger Susie Lindau the other day. And now bam! Thanks to Trisha I had made the perfect pancake. Not just in golden fluffy appearance and spectacular circumference, but in taste. Taste!
I was amazed at myself.
The best pancake I had ever tasted in my life, was in Australia. I never forgot it. I sat there at the buffet and stuffed my face with those blueberry pancakes. I could care less about the calories or carbs. I was in Australia, damn it! And these were Australian pancakes … and they were awesome. I hadn’t tasted anything like that before … and then on Sunday I repeated that tasty experience and my whole body was thanking me.
I sat there appreciating every syrupy bite that made me close my eyes in just sheer appreciation of this masterpiece.
I’d like to say that I have proof and took an awesome Food Network type of picture to present it as evidence, but I was so hungry that I didn’t have time to find the camera. I just sat there a moment and admired my pancake for a minute before taking the first bite. After that I had to pause just to bear witness to such an amazing pancake. I patted myself on the back and continued my feast.
At first I was worried that I was exaggerating a bit, but then I looked up at my son.
He smiled, gave me a thumbs up, and asked if I had made more.
Sorry Bisquick. Sorry Aunt Jemima I’m afraid that Trisha kicks ass.