I love breakfast, and I love cooking breakfast alone. I don’t mean martyrishly cooking breakfast while others wait to be served; I mean cooking breakfast for myself, by myself, every day.
My breakfast choices are highly periodised. When I was living in a gross sharehouse I made poached eggs with spinach and tomatoes nearly every day. This was no small feat. I lived with three rather dudely guys, and only one of them used the kitchen with any regularity. He used to buy budget packs of steaks, throw them in the freezer, then fry them in a cheap nonstick pan with too much oil and a hefty, stinky smear of jarred garlic. He would then eat it with his hands while playing X-Box. The morning was the only chance I had to get to the kitchen before the scent of charred cheap meat and garlic permeated everything. I had it down to a science, and from cracking the eggs to washing the dishes I could get breakfast done in exactly 15 minutes. I may well do a post on how I managed that if there is general interest.
Anyway. At the moment my breakfast of choice is a minimalist version of french toast I read about in Women’s Health, the magazine for hypochondriac gym junkies, aka me. It basically involved dredging two pieces of bread in a single beaten egg, pan frying them until all salmonella is dead, then eating them with a good amount of defrosted frozen berries and some honey. I recommend this highly.
However, this morning I found myself with leftover buttermilk from another recipe, and decided on a whim to do the sensible thing and make some pancakes. So I did, and after a pleasant half hour of flipping pancakes, drinking tea and swiping the cat off the counter I had pancakes. A lot of them. I froze the leftovers and have been eating pancakes for breakfast for the past few days. Breakfast is awesome and, by extension, so am I.
Buttermilk Pancakes
Adapted from Martha Stewart. Yes, again.
- 1 cup flour
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp bicarb
- Pinch salt
- 1 1/2 tbsp sugar
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 1/2 cup buttermilk
- 30g butter, melted
Sift together flour, baking powder, bicarb, salt and sugar in a bowl. Combine egg, buttermilk and butter in a measuring jug. Fold together wet and dry until just combined and pleasantly cellulitey.
Heat your pan over medium-low heat until a drop of water skitters over the surface. Scoop half cup quantities of batter into the pan. Flip when bubbles burst on the surface. Keep them warm in a slow oven on a plate tented with foil. Freeze the leftovers if you feel so inclined.
