My cold is not relenting. I thought I was getting better yesterday but after finishing what I'd consider to be a big meal and a mug of hot water, lemon and honey, I feel worse than yesterday. I'm afraid of catching pneumonia. So far, so good because I have no signs of a cough but I've now got a slight headache and my chest still hurts. I've added more layers of clothing and have put on thicker sweatpants in hopes that the warmer clothes will help. I've also turned up the heater in my room. Sorry for the increased heating bill dad, but I'm not risking pneumonia again.
For those of you not in the know, I had pneumonia five years ago this month and it was seriously the worst illness I've ever had. I was out of school for three weeks, mainly because it was misdiagnosed as bronchitis the first week. After the first week I finally got the right medication but it took two more weeks to recover from and then after that I was told by my doctor to take it easy at school and work (which was easier said than done). I feel like I never fully recovered. As a result I have a weakened immune system and lower pain threshold. Pneumonia is not something I would mess around with. Five days in I didn't think I was going to make it.
Anyway, what's with the title...well, I want pancakes. Ah, pancakes. What an interesting relationship we have. Let me start from the beginning...
My childhood memory of pancakes doesn't involve a lazy Saturday morning or a box of a pancake mix. In fact, it involves my mom, my brothers and pancakes from scratch. My family makes almost everything from scratch: pasta (when we were younger), tomato sauce, cakes, bread, for a while even ice cream and heck, even fish paste! So it came as no surprise to me when my brothers and I all gathered around a large stainless steel bowl and as my mother let us dump in the ingredients for pancake mix: flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, eggs and milk.
My parents' penchant for making everything from scratch kind of marred my delight of eating-out; nothing really tasted as good. When your parents give you your first taste of bone marrow or beef tongue, it's hard to imagine that an all-day breakfast diner could measure up.
As a result, I kind of hate pancakes; the light, fluffy texture that everyone adores...well, I detest it. I find it repulsive. It reminds me of stuff you eat when you're a toddler. I also hate how bland they are and how "exciting" they become only until after you've poured over a truckload of maple syrup. Oh and don't get me started on maple syrup; that brown viscose liquid you get in those plastic bottles? That's not maple syrup.
But I digress. I will eat pancakes if they're filled with fruit...for example, the strawberry pancakes Sean's dad made for his family and I on Valentine's day several years back when Sean was out of sorts because he had just gotten his wisdom teeth taken out the day before. Or banana pancakes...the last time I had them I can't remember from where, or blueberries pancakes that Sean had from...from...well I can't remember but they were good. I also like pancakes topped with actual fresh fruit or made with whole wheat or buttermilk or just something that tells me that they didn't come from a box and you just added milk and eggs.
And so I found this recipe for whole wheat pancakes that didn't include any oil and used whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose white flour. It also gets bonus points for allowing me to incorporate applesauce and an almost-rotten banana sitting on the kitchen counter!
About an hour, I had a plate of these beauties:Nom, nom nom! Satisfying! The added banana and applesauce gave them a texture that wasn't quite light and fluffy and therefore not "dough-y" as traditional pancakes are, thankfully. They also contain whole wheat flour and will fill you up longer than regular pancakes will and my mini pancakes mean you can dip them into your cute heart-shape silicone baking cup filled with 100% real maple syrup.
Sorry for the long post but the end result was worth it. To me anyway.