Thursday, June 12, 2008
Cow Pie Pancakes
by Shirley Bahlmann
As I was sitting at the table eating raw vegetables, my stomach complained that those green and leafy things surely weren't the only thing I was going to give it, were they? My stomach added that there was some pancake mix in the kitchen, and pancakes were so gooood. Then my stomach teamed up with my mouth and I heard myself ask my 14-year-old son, "Will you please cook me some pancakes?"
"Sure," he said, and walked into the kitchen. That's when I should have been suspicious. He protesteth not enough.
He came back in the dining room stirring a bowl of pancake mix with a fork. Then, looking in the bowl, he said, "Ew, what is that? Oh, well, I just stirred it in. I'm sure it's fine." Then he went back in the kitchen and I soon smelled the delicious aroma of browning pancakes. A minute later, he brought me a plate with his hand cupped around the edge. "Now, don't panic," he said. "This is supposed to be Mickey Mouse, but his brains squished out when I turned him over." Well, I could eat a mutated Mickey Mouse, and I did, and my stomach cheered.
Then my son brought me a glass of milk, only it was strange because there was a blob of bright red color spreading through the white. "Sorry, but this is the only milk we had," he explained. "George the Farmer was milking the cow when the cow stepped on his hand. George's finger popped off and flew into the milk bucket. Now his finger is in your glass, so when you drink it, leave a little on the bottom to preserve the finger so we can take it to the hospital when you're through and sew it back onto poor George."
After hearing that story, I couldn't make myself drink the milk, even though somewhere in my heart I hoped it was just red food coloring.
Then Brian brought out another plate with his hand cupped around the edge. "I made a culinary masterpiece," he announced solemnly. "I hope you enjoy it." Then he set the plate down with a flourish and announced, "Cow pie pancakes." Four pancakes of varying diameters stared up at me from the plate. They were stacked with the largest on the bottom and the smallest on the top, and by gum, it did look like a cow patty that some bovine had casually dropped in the corral. But I ate it anyway. After all, I couldn't let a masterpiece go to waste.