As a kid I often ate waffles and ice cream for breakfast. Or a bowl of Lucky Charms without the milk. Or Sugar Pops, without a spoon, one sweet, sticky kernel at a time.
On weekends we’d have bagels and lox and whitefish from the deli. Sometimes my father made scrambled eggs with thick round slices of Hebrew National salami, or French toast with Log Cabin syrup.
But I don’t remember ever having homemade pancakes. The only time I remember eating them was on those rare occasion that the family would go to IHOP for breakfast and I would order a plate full of silver dollars with no butter. I’d drown them in the thick brown maple syrup from the fancy pitcher with the sticky metal spout.
My first attempt at making pancakes from scratch was for my friend’s 20th birthday. I mixed the flour and milk according to the recipe and poured the batter into the frying pan. I didn’t know that the pan needed to be hot before you started, or that you shouldn’t flip them more than once on each side.
My dream birthday breakfast turned into a battery burned mess, the apartment filled with smoke and my friend laughing at my lack of pancake making skills.
That was 32 years ago and, while I love to eat pancakes, in all those years I have never tried to make them again.
But several weeks ago I bought a box of Bisquick instant pancake mix (just add water) and a bottle of real maple syrup from Canada. I had an inkling that I wanted to try again and, since both items have a long shelf life, I wasn’t under any pressure to make them right away.
But last night I had a craving. So I pulled out the box, measured out the mix, added the water and whisked it together. I coated the frying pan with non-stick spray like the directions said, put the flame on medium heat and let the pan get hot.
Then I poured a four inch blob of batter into the pan and dotted the pancake with some fresh blueberries.
And I watched the clock, waiting.
The directions on the box said to flip it after a minute or a minute and a half, or when the edges started to brown.
I guess my pan wasn’t hot enough because when I peeked my spatula under the pancake, the bottom was still white and sticky.
So I waited some more.
As I stood there, watching the blobs of batter in the pan, I realized that this is why I don’t like cooking.
Because it is a lot of waiting. And not doing.
They say that, how we do one thing is how we do everything.
As I stood over the hot pan, watching for the edges to brown, it became very clear to me that I am a do-er, not a wait-er. I’m a person of action, of results, of energy in motion.
This doesn’t mean that I can’t sit still. Because if sitting still is the thing that I am doing, then I’m fine with it.
But when I think about how I step into any new habit, or begin a new project, I see how much I don’t like to just wait.
Even though I know that life is a flow of action and non-action, and that there needs to be space in between, I am always doing something else while I am waiting, keeping busy, stirring another pot of possibility.
I am never just doing nothing, waiting for the next step.
And it occurs to me that maybe I wouldn’t feel so scattered and unfocused if I leaned into this waiting space and didn’t try to fill up every minute with doing something, or something else.
Waiting is about giving up the need for control. It is allowing something to happen in its own time, giving a thing or a person the space to bloom, ready, or, in the case of a pancake, time to brown.
I guess I need to make pancakes more often so that I can practice waiting for things to happen in their own time. Without control. Without impatience. Without doing anything else.
As for my first batch of blueberry pancakes, I won’t lie and tell you that they were the best pancakes I’ve ever had. But they weren’t the worst either.
I drowned them in the maple syrup from Canada and was pretty proud of myself for sticking with it. And especially proud for seeing how this simple act of making pancakes could teach me something about how I do everything else in my life.
How do life lessons appear in your life? I’d love to hear your stories. And if you have a great recipe for homemade pancakes, I may just give it a try. Just click on the comments below.
The waiting is the hardest part:)
Hi Ruth,
Congratulations on all you learned through giving pancake making another try. Wishing you much treasure from this new awareness!
Love,
Joy
Thanks Joy! And Tracy, maybe we just need to come up with a different name for waiting and then it wouldn’t be so hard. Or, the ultimate, to settle into it and embrace it. This is something I am working with.
Ruth, go to Wildflower and try the Lemon Ricotta Pancakes. I like mine topped with butter, 2 poached eggs, maple syrup and a side of bacon. If you ever see Buckwheat Pancakes on a menu, try them. I think The Original Pancake House near Fashion Square has them. I do make pancakes at home when I get those cravings, usually at dinner time too!
Kathie, sounds yummy! I’ll meet you there!
When the bubbles in the middle and toward the edges start “popping”, it’s time to turn them. You will have less waiting if you make smaller pancakes. Lesson?
Look for alternatives. Yes?
Amy, yes, alternatives….love it!
Ruth, this is a a fun post! Your blueberry pancakes reminded me of the time I made blueberry muffins from a mix – when I was maybe 12.
I didn’t know that the little can of blueberries needed to be drained; not only did the muffins turn blue, they were also very rubbery, as I recall. I’m pleased to say, my baking skills have greatly improved since then! So who knows what’s waiting for you around the corner?
Karen, I love your story. And especially hearing that your muffin experience didn’t hold you back from becoming a fine baker!
I make pancakes from the box. But I learned from my father that you grease the hot pan WITH BUTTER, USING A PAPER TOWEL, and it sizzles. Then you CAN POUR THE PANCAKE BATTER, and turn them when dry bubbles appear. If you would like to practice, schedule a pancake breakfast here.
Thanks, Dad. Maybe I will.
Making pancakes is actually a terrific metaphor for the life of a do-er. As one of those action-oriented folks, I have the hardest time waiting, especially on the people in my life to “brown.” So many of the world’s spiritual practices speak to everything in it’s own time/season; just like pancakes, for something to be its best, we just have to wait for the moment- often in silence, stillness, and full awareness, lest we miss the moment. Thanks for sharing Ruth!
Francesca, and while we’re allowing everyone to “brown” at their own pace, it’s a challenge to allow ourselves to keep moving at our own pace…connect and detach…allow and release…life is a constant pancake in the griddle!
Again this morning I had wonderful Trader Joe’s blueberries in my breakfast – today, a shake, usually oatmeal. As I spent a lot of years do-ing, then a lot of years to this day learning and practicing also be-ing, your article speaks to me no matter when written. Reminds me: “Do, Be, Do, Be… and before too long you have Doobie Doobie, Do!?”
Yes, Joy…the rhythm of do…be….do….be……
4 inches is a huge pancake. Smaller ones don’t take as long to cook and usually have a better texture. You’ll get the hang of it.
I hate waiting too – always flipped too early until I learned how to read the “bubbles”. But I never just wait. I read, wash dishes, organize stuff. It’s not the waiting, it’s “dead time”.
learn to read the bubbles. I like that!