PITT EXPERIENCE -- The view from Mt. Washington

PANCAKE-AGEDDON!

There comes a sad time in every man's life when he opens his refrigerator with a rumbly tummy and only sees the likes of condiments...butter...maybe a leftover tortilla shell or two.

"Well, what's in the pantry?" the man (who says pantry) might ask himself at this desperate time. Hmm...also nothing. He stares at an empty pizza box near the trash can and thinks of happier times. Sigh...Pizza Hut-- our time together was too short.

His stomach rumbles. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howls a long and worrisome note...

These are the times that the truly resourceful (or perhaps lazy) man can whip together a hodgepodge of ingredients to make a truly heroic meal. That...or maybe he just settles.

This is a story of the latter.

At 9pm a few weeks ago I arrived home after a long day of school and work-- tired and defeated. I was ready to hydrate, sit down and become a vegetable for a couple of hours before bed. But first I had to eat something...and the refrigerator offered no solace. Into the pantry I delved, refusing to settle for a measly protein bar or an improvised Sriracha and Worchestershire Sauce sandwich.

For probably the millionth time in my time here in Pittsburgh my eyes glossed past an unopened container of Bisquick without a second thought. In fact, I was in the middle of deciding if I could use the Italian Breadcrumbs I own in bulk to bread cloves of garlic when a little angel appeared on my left shoulder.

This angel took the shape of my best friend and former college cohort, Tim Baker. The flowing white robe, hair, golden aura around him...all very majestic. I leaned closer to him as he opened his mouth to no doubt impart words of wisdom to me in this time of need...and he said...

"Dude. Shugar. MAKE PANCAKES YA' DOUCHE! You only did it like EVERY OTHER DAY in college. C'mon!"

With that Angel Baker disappeared leaving me with one very important question-- did I actually, for once in this life, have milk AND eggs sitting around to make this venture possible?

Somehow I did. The stars had aligned! I had milk that wasn't four weeks old and eggs that had only been in the fridge for a week (not a month). With glee I broke into the Bisquick container and began mixing the ingredients in a giant mixing bowl. Aside, I heated up my griddle.

At this point I wasn't thinking clearly, either from my near-religious pancake experience, or perhaps from the exhaustion of the day. For some reason I didn't want to turn around, walk two feet and get a conveniently-located spoon out to portion out individual pancakes. That or maybe I didn't want to stand there for 15 minutes and make 10 small pancakes as only one or two could be made in my griddle at a time.

Instead I just poured the batter directly from the bowl to the griddle. What resulted was pancake batter everywhere...the pancake now cooking on the griddle was far from a perfect circle...my bowl started dripping everywhere (and everyone knows that hardened pancake batter = cement on counters). I had to make a decision, and for some reason I thought pouring all the batter in at once to make one HUGE pancake would be the easiest way to remedy Pancake-ageddon from happening.

I began pouring (*lightning flash*). The pancake took the shape of a perfect circle (*thunder clap*). My mixing bowl, now empty, was tossed haphazardly into the nearby sink.

The Pancake...it's...beautiful. Mwah HA HA HA! (*fists and arms raised into the air in defiance of the Bisquick Gods).

For two minutes I thought I could pull it off. The pancake was browning well...I could lift a quarter with a spatula and it was binding together. To be safe I grabbed a second spatula and prepared for the greatest flip in pancake history.

What followed was the worst flip in pancake history.

As I lifted with the two spatulas the pancake just disintegrated. In a panic I just started trying to flip broken pieces back into the spots they came from like some deranged, battery puzzle. But I'm only good at the border of puzzles and Grandma wasn't around to help me with the center this time.

In the end it somehow all worked out. None of the pancake burned. It cooked all the way through. I was left with pancake pieces convenient for dipping, and what I didn't finish of the pancake was kept in the fridge for a couple days, providing an improvised meal when needed.

And that's how I spent a night after work about a fortnight ago-- if this doesn't paint an accurate portrait of my life living alone in Pittsburgh...I don't know what does.

I bet Van Gogh's pancakes were misunderstood in his time too...

America! MEAT LOAF!

I figured what better way to celebrate America --granted a day late, I worked the 3rd and 4th-- and my last day of my break from school than to have a little (turkey) meatloaf?

Also pictured: roasted vegetables and sweet potato wedges with cumin.