This inflammatory headline was in the print version. The online version was less provocative:
I have a well-documented swoony crush on pancakes. I remember back when I used to subscribe to Cuisine, the late, still-lamented Cuisine, there was a whole article about pancakes. Oh! the pancakes of my young wife- and motherhood! I still have the handwritten copies I made of those recipes for Johnnycake and Flannel Cakes, the latter of which required extensive and perhaps obsessive beating of eggs, leading to a velvety batter and lovely, light pancakes. Also, I am quite fond of a pancake made from cottage cheese and separated eggs, the whites of which are beaten until light and the whole affair scented with freshly grated nutmeg. If I could, I would eat pancakes every single day of my life for breakfast, and sometimes for dinner and occasionally for lunch. With jam, with syrup, even sometimes by their charming selves. Bittman's recipes, particularly for an oat pancake with cardamom, inspire optimism.
I have a well-documented swoony crush on pancakes. I remember back when I used to subscribe to Cuisine, the late, still-lamented Cuisine, there was a whole article about pancakes. Oh! the pancakes of my young wife- and motherhood! I still have the handwritten copies I made of those recipes for Johnnycake and Flannel Cakes, the latter of which required extensive and perhaps obsessive beating of eggs, leading to a velvety batter and lovely, light pancakes. Also, I am quite fond of a pancake made from cottage cheese and separated eggs, the whites of which are beaten until light and the whole affair scented with freshly grated nutmeg. If I could, I would eat pancakes every single day of my life for breakfast, and sometimes for dinner and occasionally for lunch. With jam, with syrup, even sometimes by their charming selves. Bittman's recipes, particularly for an oat pancake with cardamom, inspire optimism.
Coincidentally, tonight, while we were eating a sturdy and, it must be said, uninspiring dinner of a Boca burger and oven fries, I happened to glance at the mail, and there was the alumni magazine for my alma mater. Oh, all right, BYU. The first article, by the university president Cecil O. Samuelson, took me right back--it was the absolute quintessence of my BYU experience. At least some aspects of it.
I have tried to find an actual screen shot of the T of C, but alas, in vain, so it will have to suffice to give you the title--
"Appropriate Zeal"
--and the blurb:
"If we are not careful, our zeal for good things can exceed proper boundaries, and we may miss the mark."
Let me pause to add that among the other things BYU gave me are a working acquaintance with classical rhetorical devices and the OED, love of a university library, and an appreciation for basketball. And let us also pause to note that when BYU has a good basketball team, there is much rejoicing in the land. I cannot help myself in the rejoicing.
Also, I used to play the piano for four hours a day when I was at BYU, and that's no joke.
Anyway, back to the magazine: I am happy to report that on the very same Table of Contents page, the one with the cautionary message from my BYU past, there was also a picture of a waffle, with berries on it, with the promise of a recipe inside. Promised and delivered: and, the people, that waffle did comfort my very soul, and it did not miss the mark.
