Just so you know that I haven’t yet succumbed to martyrdom with my runny nose and blocked sinuses (how is that even possible at the same time?) I thought I’d write a line about breakfast.
Occasionally, far, far too occasionally in my mind, my dearly beloved friend, the sparklingly gorgeous Ms K stays overnight at our house on a visit from her new home town of NYC. While I always love the easy, breezy time we always spend on either side of the couch chatting and sipping tea/hot choc/cocktails as if no time at all has passed since our last gathering, and I especially love the thought of her snuggled up in the big white duvet on the sleeper couch downstairs, I particularly, selfishly even, love the thought of getting to make her breakfast in the morning. Partly because it’s what I do for those I love, partly because I know that not many of her other friends would do that and partly because, Ms K being one of the slightly fussier eaters I know, I always get to make pancakes for her. An opportunity to make pancakes for breakfast is an opportunity for a good day, if you ask me. Have you ever made pancakes for breakfast and gone on to have a bad day? That, unlike my runny nose/blocked sinuses, just I has to be impossible, non?
La vie, c’est bon.
And while the batter, for reasons I’m going to just go ahead and blame on my cold, simply did not perform but insisted instead on being too runny and made pancakes altogether too squishy and crepe-like to be Real American Pancakes, the whole affair still undertook to hold together and be fabulous. We managed to wolf an impressive quantity down, complimented by a blueberry and raspberry compote and covered in a caramelised white chocolate crem.
Sorry there aren’t any pictures. Well. That I’ll just blame on my cold as well. Why not?