Conjunctivitis has confined us to quarters. I lost my tiny little mind last night and
threatened the Ankle Biters with mutilation politely asked the Ankle Biters to clean up their mess. It’s too wet to garden. All in all we’re having a slow and lazy Sunday morning. Which is nice.
We’ve been on a pancake frenzy this weekend. We go through phases of pancakes. Sometimes I’ll make them every Saturday for ages and then they just fll off the radar. They’ve been off the radar for a while now. Strangely enough, what inspired their return was my slackness in getting a batch of yoghurt made. Which of course meant i had to actually buy yoghurt. Ouch. Which led me to lash out on a tub of Jalna honey and vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. Now that’s just down right out of character. We’re a plain yoghurt household. That’s just the way we roll.
Once I got the yoghurt home, I
greedily scoffed about 1/4 of the tub delicately tasted a morsel and had instant visions of sour dough pancakes. Sour dough pancakes are awesome. The recipe originally comes form Sally Fallon’s Nourishing Traditions. I couldn’t be bothered actually reaching for the book so I went from memory.
Sour Dough Pancakes
2 cups plain flour
2 cups yoghurt (honey vanilla with a hint of cinnamon was awesome but you can use any flavour)
- Mix flour and yoghurt together. Cover and leave overnight.
- In the morning, beat in egg and enough milk to make a pancake batter consistency.
- Butter in a frypan, cook as usual (they take a little longer to cook than a conventional pancake).
So good. Kicks butt on the standard pancake fare. Saurday’s extravaganza were rolled with a filling of stewed apple and pear and a drizzle of maple syrup. The Sunday version were filled with strawberries, raasperries (frozen ones which I defrosted overnight and heated slightly) and berry coulis leftover from our recent dinner party. Both were divine in their own way. Both could also be served easily as dessert.
Such decadence at breakfast makes me feel better that the Bread Winner does not appear to be missing my cooking AT ALL. That’s all very well and good while you’re in Barcelona my friend but I’d like to see you keep it up in London. HA!
Sorry Londonders to vent my spleen at your expense. Dem’s da breaks. The Ankle Biters are fighting and I’m bitter and twisted. Better have another pancake…
Updated to add: I was wrong about the weather. There were a few hours of glorious gardening sunshine and a change blew in just as I hit exhaustion. Now I’m having a well earned cuppa and listening to the Ankle Biters abuse each other. Sunday bliss.