Pancake Parfaits and Other Preposterous Propositions

When I was a kid, breakfast during the week most days was a pour-it-in-a-bowl or pop-it-in-the toaster kind of affair. But sometimes on the weekend, my mom would do a fun breakfast. We’d have pancakes shaped like snowmen, or donuts (canned biscuits with holes poked in them) fried in the Fry Daddy.

At my house, though, due to the husband japonais and the ridiculous price of cereal and lack of toastable entrees, breakfast is usually a full on meal.

Woe is me.

Weekend breakfasts, then, are usually just more of the same. But this past weekend I thought it would be fun to do a fun breakfast.

Which reminds me of my favorite musical exchange from Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast:”

Gaston: LaFoo, I’m afraid I’ve been thinking
LaFoo: A dangerous pasttime
Gaston: I know.

I thought it would be fun to do pancake parfaits. As if johnnycakes alone aren’t hard enough, right?

I guess I was trying to bank some cullinary kharma.

Anyway, my plan was to make the pancakes, cut up different kinds of fruit, and let the kids put what they like in a bowl and add chocolate syrup or whatever. At the grocery store, I reached over to buy some ready made whipped cream when HRH goes, “You should make that yourself.”


I decided against trying to explain the logistics of whipping cream while trying to make pancakes, or explaining how we didn’t need that much cream, or that it was more expensive.

Instead I went with a “Sure! While I make the pancakes you can do that!”

He tried to get out of it. He slept late, he said he wanted to iron clothes, but I could not move from the griddle and the kids were waiting with bated breath by the hand mixer, eager to help.

It was a bit of a disaster. He wanted to have double bowls so he could have ice in one to keep the cream cold. Of course he has no idea where the mixing bowls are, and I suspected his real mission was to draw me into captaining this creamy misadventure. “Making pancakes,can’t help, sorry!” as I secretly turn the heat down.

I won’t bore you with any more details. Suffice it to say the highlights of this breakfast included the sheer amount of whipped cream produced in spite of my warning the perpetrators that they did not need to use the whole pint, and the look on HRH’s face when he (finally) read the nutritional information on the label after I protested that the kids were eating too much. Of course it’s good, that little carton contains 900 calories and 45g of fat!


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Susie
    Dec 07, 2012 @ 02:22:29

    My ma was a single mum of 6 kids. So weekends meant special breakfast time. She generally made pancakes that were so buttery delicious and shaped like Mickey OR waffles.
    On even rarer occasions she would make crepes. We are all grown up now but she still will ask us if we want to come over for special breakfasts. <3 Good memories! Yum homemade whipped cream…. a bugger to make but so damn good.


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