The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow
In my Junior year of High School, the theater department put on a production of Annie. I didn’t get to see the whole thing.
I had planned on seeing the Saturday matinee performance with my girlfriend at the time, Janet. My mom was out of town visiting a cousin, so my dad was in charge of the house. This did not happen very often, and he wanted to impress us while Mom was away. His first act was to make blueberry pancakes for my siblings and me on Saturday morning. They were pretty delicious, and it was a great start to a hopefully phenomenal weekend. Those good vibes lasted less than 12 hours.
Since the show was at 1:00pm, I played video games until about noon, then started getting ready. As I slid on my ripped American Eagle jeans, my stomach began to feel a little uneasy. It wasn’t my juvenile fashion sense that upset me; I thought it might be those “wonderful” pancakes. After inquiring about similar issues amongst my siblings and father, and finding that they felt totally fine, I powered through and decided to attend the show.
In the car, my stomach gurgled with intensity. I let loose a lot of gas on the ride over, and I naively hoped that might be the extent of my troubles. There wasn’t any pain, so panic had yet to set in. After mentally preparing to hold it in for a couple hours, I pulled up to the parking lot and met up with Janet. As we walked in together, I was already feeling much worse.
We took our seats, the lights went down, and I knew I was done for. It took excessive focus to keep everything inside of me, and sweat started to collect on my brow. I don’t remember any of the play. I sat in agony for 20 minutes before excusing myself to the bathroom. Despite the walk taking less than 30 seconds, I didn’t make it: a squirt of brown shot out of me and into my pants. Despite the nightmare unfolding around and inside me, I vowed not to let it get worse before I was over a toilet. I kept that promise, but the damage was done. The less than solid nature of my excrement had seeped through my tighty whities, and was clearly visible on my stylish jeans.
I contemplated staying there forever (eventually someone would get suspicious and come looking), considered texting for help (and ruin my relationship), and then finally decided to make a run for it. I couldn’t go back after shitting my pants: the auditorium was filled with all my classmates, my friends, and especially Janet. I imagined the pain of embarrassment would be worse than dental torture. I found the nearest door which led outside and bolted through, then beelined for the car. I texted Janet that I had already left, and that she should stay to watch the rest of the show. It felt like the right thing to do, but I honestly didn’t even look at her reply: I needed to get to the safety of my house.
I made it home without further incident, threw my clothes in the wash, and decided to hop in the shower-- something that usually helps me feel better. Not this time. The hot water was the opposite of soothing, and instead made me feel gross. The gurgling took on a more sinister sound, and the cramping pains kicked me from my neck to my belt. I finally let loose a heave so hard it forced me to bend over. The next visual is permanently seared in my brain: my feet straddling the grate in the bottom of the shower, now covered by the distinct combination of blueberries, pancakes, and stomach acid, slowly spiraling into the drain.
I felt better immediately. There’s no way I can put this up in the win column, but I avoided the agony of embarrassing myself in front of my peers, and most importantly, Janet. I crawled into bed and slept for the rest of the day, hoping the sun would come out tomorrow.
Anyways, here is my recipe for blueberry pancakes.
Ingredients:
Pancakes are one of my all time favorites. Sure, waffles have the perfect crevices for syrup, but pancakes will soak it in like a sponge! I get so excited every time I eat these little golden discs of heaven, I try to eat as many as possible. But, that doesn’t mean you should make them smaller: you just have to eat MORE! Oh, maybe that's how I got sick.
1 Cup Milk
1 Large Egg
3 Tbsp Vegetable Oil
1 tsp Vanilla Extract
1 Cup Flour
1 Tbsp Baking Powder
1 Tbsp Sugar
1 tsp Cinnamon
Non stick spray
½ Pint Blueberries
Maple Syrup
Butter
Equipment:
Any kind of stovetop pan will do the trick. There is a beauty in the utility of pancake batter, and the fact that it will make great pancakes on many surfaces. Use the hood of your car if it’s hot enough! Actually, don’t: That might damage the paint job.
1 Large Bowl
1 Medium Bowl
Whisk
Stovetop Pan (or griddle)
Spatula
Active prep total: 20 minutes
Clean up: 8 minutes
I used to be afraid of making anything with flour in it. I would see a recipe that wanted the raw, white powder and think, “That sounds like a lot of effort.” Let me put you at ease. These are easy to make. Pancakes are a simple joy, and even I, a simpleton, am capable of making perfectly satisfying, delicious, fluffy cakes. Please let that confidence seep in.
Instructions:
Combine the dry ingredients (1 Cup Flour, 1 Tbsp Baking Powder, 1 Tbsp Sugar, 1 tsp Cinnamon) in the medium bowl. Whisk it around well for about a minute, as this will disperse the baking soda in the mixture. In my youth, I bit into a pocket of baking soda that had clumped together while making the batter. That bitter, metallic taste is with me to this day. It’s the taste equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Gross.
Combine the wet ingredients (1 Cup Milk, 1 Large Egg, 3 Tbsp Vegetable Oil, 1 tsp Vanilla Extract) in the large bowl. Enjoy watching the vanilla extract interacting with the other liquids (an almost hypnotic dance), then snap out of it! Whisk until homogenous.
Slowly add the dry ingredients and get them incorporated with the wet. When they are all combined, you will have a nice thick batter. Add your blueberries and give it one more good mixing. Time to get excited!
Turn the dial on your stovetop pan to one click above medium. The pancakes I made were about ¼ cup of batter each. Spray your pan with Pam (or other cooking spray), then pour in your batter, and watch it take the iconic circular shape. When bubbles begin to form toward the middle of the batter puddle, it’s time to flip! Give it another 30 to 60 seconds on the uncooked side, and then take it off the heat.
Repeat until you are all out of batter. Let the great smells of pancakes and blueberries fill your head and heart. And then, let them fill your belly.
Time to build up this stack of cakes, add some butter and syrup, and then turn into a one-man demolition team as you tear down your pancake skyscraper. Sometimes, we build up our bad memories to be bigger than they really were, but we can tear down the power they have over us. See? Pancakes are the perfect metaphor for improving your life. As you go through your past, you’ll realize it may actually be sweeter than you remember. If not, try adding more blueberries.
