Growing up, it was always pancakes. I never got into the whole egg scene until college, when I realized that a heaping stack of fluffy carbs and sugar just wasn’t doing my skinny jeans any good.
Can we please have pancakes today? With chocolate chips and strawberries!
That was the question every Saturday morning while Recess re-runs played on the t.v.
Of course, my mom being the generous human that she is, would make them for me. I was the sous-chef, pouring and mixing, plus calling out what shape to form them into. A dynamic duo, if you will. We would form them into hearts, Mickey Mouse’s face, and other things that looked like nothing; just random blobs with melted red and brown spots everywhere. We got pretty good though, not to brag.
Tip: I learned that once you pour the mix onto the pan, you should watch for bubbles. Once the bubbles begin, the perfect browning underneath has begun as well. You’re almost ready to flip. Count to 100, or a little less. Depending on the heat. A burnt pancake isn’t that bad either, just drown it in syrup.
Then there were those moments when I must have been on my A-game all week, and I deserved a McDonald’s pancake breakfast. Yes. Man, oh man, it’s so real. My dad would take me, knowing it was going to paste a smile across my face, and probably because I would never finish so he got leftovers.
Having a bad day? We will make pancakes. Been good all week? Pancakes it is. Test day at school? That’s a bummer, let’s have pancakes for breakfast.
Then, she bought a waffle maker.
Mom, what is this?
Confused, to say the least. Something that you pour the mix into without flipping? Something that just makes the fluffy breakfast for you?
It was all over from there. I was all in.
Waffles and pancakes and more waffles and more pancakes. It became a weekend ritual.
Ever since then, I’ve had some sort of love affair with this comfort food.
But those skinny jeans.
That’s when waffles and pancakes weren’t on my weekend to-do list anymore; when skinny jeans came along. Just the occasional Sunday brunch with a mimosa and the waffle bigger than the plate it’s on, covered in fruit and whipped cream. Because, well, sometimes life is more than just skinny jeans that fit perfectly. Sometimes it’s skinny jeans that you have to jump up and down to get into, that also fit a bit too snug. Sometimes, there is more to life than those damn jeans. Like waffles.
BA and I have a thing for comfort food. We have a thing for food in general, really. We spend about 3 hours in Whole Foods wandering through the different kinds of cereals they made out of flax seeds and the ginger shot that is going to cure all of your problems. Jaw dropping stuff.
We eat healthy, generally, but we indulge when needed. We indulge, because sometimes the week was hard and the ice cream is easy. And the dog park on a Friday night isn’t the same without a cone covered in melting banana foster flavored ice cream dripping down your hand.
So, we find the perfect mix of trying to keep the jeans fitting and the tummy full of comfort food.
KNOW foods. They have everything from donuts, to waffles, to pancake mix, to bread, to crackers, to everything else your definition of comfort food could consist of. Made with no GMO’s, no gluten, no grain, no wheat, no soy, no dairy, no peanuts, no yeast, no preservatives, no added sugars, no trans fat. The perfect way to indulge in 2017. Gluten free, of course.
Can I have some of that, please?
BA, asking so politely, while already picking up my half eaten KNOW better donut drizzled with peanut butter, the other night in bed when we had jet lag and were starving at 1AM, with the dog licking the side of the plate.
Comfort food. In bed, with my two loves. Next weekend it will be the waffles.
This post is brought to you by KNOW foods – the most delicious alternative to the original comfort food. The opinions are my own, as always. I eat their products in bed, with tea.. and that’s when I knew it was real.