As If the Pancakes I Made This Morning Didn't Turn Out Oddly Enough...

What went wrong this time?

Every good little Mormon mommy teaches every good little Mormon daughter to cook right? Well if the fact that my mother shops for groceries three hours away from her house at Whole Foods, and that though she has gone without using shampoo for a while, and the whole energy medicine guruness (whilst being a conservative Republican but that's not strange for a Mormon, just strange for the rest of this stuff) wasn't different enough, she never forced me to learn to cook. Not that she wasn't a FABULOUS cook, which she most certainly was, or that she wouldn't teach me, I just never learned. I was required to make one meal a week as part of my chores, and so I learned two family favorites by heart and rotated every week.

Which isn't to say that I can't follow a recipe. But some things aren't supposed to require a recipe. Scrambling eggs for instance. French toast. Pancakes. Sure there are recipes, but you should be able to make these things without one. At least that's what my husband thinks. Steven made pancakes all the time and tried to teach me. Every batch I've made has had something odd going on with it, although I thought I was basically doing the same thing every time. 

Slowly but surely I'm adding to my repertoire. I made up my own (delicious by the way) recipe for chicken enchiladas, I taught myself how to make mashed potatoes, and I even made my first batch of oatmeal cookies which were okayed by the home teachers.Tonight I might even surprise Steven with something new. Twice baked potatoes perhaps?

Those pancakes were awfully cakey... Bad egg to flour ratio perhaps? Perhaps...