Page 47 of Moonlight Feels Right
After mixing the batter as directed, he turned on the skillet, spraying it with some sort of healthy oil. Then he spooned out the batter, watching the first pancake drip into the second. He made a slight adjustment for the third one, but it also ran into the others, making one oddly shaped and way too big pancake, but whatever. He could break them up when they were done.
When it looked like the batter was thickening, he flipped the pancake over and frowned. It was burned on the edges with long brown streaks through the middle of the cake, somehow looking both well-done and raw at the same time.
As he put the large, ugly pancake on a plate, Olivia came into the kitchen. "What's that?" she asked with a disgusted shake of her head. "That doesn't look like Mommy's pancakes."
"I'll make more."
"Can you make them better than that? Why is it just one big one? I like little ones."
"I can do little ones. Why don't you finish getting dressed?"
She gave him a doubtful look, then headed back to the bedroom.
A knock came at the door, so he turned off the stove and moved quickly into the living room to let Emmalyn in.
"Good morning," she said, looking pretty and fresh in a skirt and sleeveless sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her hazel eyes sparkling. "Do I smell pancakes?"
"Something went wrong," he grumbled.
"Uh-oh," she said, following him to the kitchen.
"I followed the instructions, but I got this." He held up the plate, seeing her bite back a smile.
"That was your first one, right?"
"Yes. I'm not sure I should try for a second. I obviously did something wrong."
"The first pancake always comes out like that, especially if you haven't made pancakes before. The trick is to get the griddle really warm before you start cooking. You put the flame at a low to medium heat level." She turned the flame back on. Then she moved to the fridge and grabbed some butter. "I also like to use a little butter on the pan versus a spray." She dabbed some butter onto the griddle.
"Okay. Should I do the batter now?" he asked.
"Not yet. We're still heating the pan and letting the butter melt so it doesn't burn before the pancakes cook."
"Got it," he said, realizing his mistake was that the oily spray had probably burned, which had given his pancake the weird streak marks.
Em waited another minute, then spooned out the batter into three perfect circular pancakes. "As soon as the pancake fills with little air holes, it's time to flip." A moment later, she flipped them over, and they were a perfect golden brown.
"Amazing."
She laughed. "Your second one would have been better even without my instruction because the griddle would have been at a more even temperature. You can't give up too soon."
"I wasn't going to give up. Quitting isn't really in my nature."
"Mine, either. Mostly because I always want to believe there's a perfect pancake coming, or whatever it is I'm trying to make happen."
"So, pancakes are a metaphor for life," he said with an amused smile.
"And also really delicious, especially with butter and syrup."
As she put her perfect pancakes on the plate, he called Olivia, who was very excited to see both Emmalyn and the kind of pancakes she was expecting.
"These look yummy," Olivia declared, dousing them in syrup.
He probably should be controlling that, but she was happy, and her sugar high would happen at school, so he wasn't going to worry about that.
"Shall I make the rest?" Emmalyn asked. "Are you going to have some, Hunter?"
"No. I'm fasting for my blood work, but you're welcome to eat."
