Defence against the Dark Art of Pancake Making

As domestic goddesses (and gods) across the land created magic and wonder with pancakes for Shrove Tuesday, the Almost Average household fell into a state of disorder, disappointment and disarray.

The culinary bliss of the previous weekend with shouts of milky puddings and other British fayre might have given the impression that I'm a dab hand in the kitchen but the truth of the matter is my experience in that very small space is more like a practical lesson in the Defence against the Dark Arts...

...especially when it comes to pancakes.

If I can just bung in ingredients and cook it according to taste - great! If I have to measure, sieve, mix and cook at just the right temperature, then I'm in need of a magic wand and a few charms.

You see Pancake Making - due to its need for precision - is normally Mr A's domain. But he'd been tied up at a meeting in London - figuratively speaking of course - and wouldn't be back in time to meet the the demands of tradition.

So with rolled up sleeves, I opened my old beginners recipe book - circa 1986 - and followed the recipe with my limited patience, even taking into account Mr A's adjustment to add more milk to make the batter less dense. Well he is the expert you know, so I followed the instructions and whisked and with the aid of my blender created the smoothest batter I could have asked for.

And with the pan suitably greased and hot, I poured in the mixture and watched as it bubbled and frothed. That's right - FROTHED. It was as if a dark demon had injected an Engorgio spell onto my creation and my call of Reducio had little effect.

I'm afraid, this was no pancake.

I tried again, the boys looking on in disappointment as I poured the results of another flopped attempt into the rejects bowl.

I judged the batter was too thin so I added some extra flour to thicken it up. That'd do it.

And in a way it did.

But it could have gone better if I had poured a little less mixture into the pan, with a good dose of patience to go with it.

That might have resulted in proper pancakes....instead of what resembled something more akin to "Creatures from the deep" with their wrinkly bodies and slimey appearance.

Thank goodness I had the sense to melt some chocolate as a topping. At least it meant my failed attempts were eaten.

And thank the Lord for wild bird seed, because the real rejects were quickly disguised as bird food and put out into the garden.

So despite my misadventures, nothing, absolutely nothing went to waste...

...except for the spare flour that had been scattered on the stair carpet by my four-year-old, as he smuggled the bag from the kitchen up into his bedroom.

Defence against the Dark Arts, eh.

Perhaps I should become a master of the Imperious spell.

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