Pancaking

As part of an ongoing quest to use all my remaining baking ingredients, I made pancakes for breakfast. Except, there's a problem in halving the recipe when the four-serving version calls for one egg. Normally, I might just leave the egg the same and reduce the others, making extra-eggy pancakes--but, no, that would be capitulating. Now it's a challenge, and you, about.com, are about to lose.

I remember in sixth grade someone (Alan, in case anyone is interested) invented a word, "pancaking," for my current state. It's the act of eating pancakes drawn as a larger allegory: beginning something whole-hearted and enthusiastic, a delicious first bite, soon settling into the rhythm of things, then even sooner overwhelmed by the mass and monstrosity of what's on the plate in front of you, but determined to go on. Obviously, in a literal sense, this applies quite well to my present state, yet I believe it ranks with the Odyssey and the Gospel of John as a legitimate classical myth-structure; indeed, it applies to watching a Meg Ryan movie (funny and heartwarming; expected that joke, sure; isn't this over? where's Tom Hanks?) to Samuel Beckett (any elaboration needed? Good.)

Pancaking is never really done with. The current plate is finished, yet there is still almost a whole bag of white flour left, not to mention all the multi-grain flour, yeast, baking powder, baking soda, etc. But now, at least, I'm satisfied with a job well done, and also there's syrup all over my computer.

And now for a picture that I'll probably end up regretting when I apply for a job where they're likely to Google my name (which job is that?):