On a pudding scale of 1-10, with 1 being a sugar-free lemon sorbet and 10 being a homemade apple crumble swimming in custard with a side order of chocolate ganache, I'd give pancakes a 4.
Meh, if that was all that was on the desert menu (and there ALWAYS has to be desert) then I suppose I'd order them under duress but they're not exactly saliva-inducing pudding heaven. Made badly (by me) they taste of raw eggs, as proven by my friend Gemma to whom I gave salmonella in 1996 when I first and last attempted to make them. At best they taste like raw eggs with sugar and chocolate flavouring.
Seeing as Mini B has not yet shown signs of inheriting this pancake snobbery (although he does eat rice cakes of his own will so he’s clearly got a lot to learn), I thought we better embrace last month's devotion to a day of Pancaking (a desert celebration wasted!) and Mr B was enlisted to get his saucepan flipping on the go.
These were our efforts that didn't lend up like a runny omlette on the floor…hmm.. (burnt, inedible ones are to be found at the bottom), yum...
This post was brought to you with the sound of Clean Bandit - Rather Be