Love Pancakes

Lit Up: Valentine’s Event

Lise Colas
Lit Up
3 min readFeb 14, 2018

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photo: the author

Pancakes for your Husband

For the perfect batter made from scratch, break eggs into the well, avoid bits of explosive shell and whisk into the flour, dribbling milk and water as Delia does, mixing with care, avoiding lumps — duck only once, in case of flying cutlery.

Spoon around for a bit, just enough to make a decent trail and then leave for a while to calm down. Try to avoid a hissy fit when looking for the pan, which has been put away in the wrong place again. Examine the worn surface and try to imagine it’s still new and unused. Give it a quick wipe with an old dishcloth.

Heat pan and add a little butter, let it skid around giddily like first love — do not let it burn. Pour in the batter, see it grow from silver dollar to coaster to dainty tea plate — let it bloom, take a pic for the family album. Watch as it bubbles and give it a sly poke around the edges, but do not disturb unduly. Try not to fantasise about fluffy American style with warmed blueberries and maple syrup.

Wait until the crispy edges curl, then grab the pan slice and flip over. The first will be imperfect, never mind, it’s always the way. Came out a little scrunched? No matter, put it on the coddled plate and secretly gorge on the scraps left behind.

Cover the pallid or burnt ones with later versions in better shape — he’ll never notice. Let the sugar soak up the sour lemon juice. Serve.

Pancakes for your Lover

There isn’t enough time — just warm that sexy French skillet and grab the instant mix, bang it on the head, slosh in water and shake upright.

Make sure there’s no tell-tale spillage and add more water if too dry — he likes you wet. No real eggs to worry about, use an old fashioned whisk, nice and brisk until your wrist aches.

Hey, the pan is almost smoking — we got a little distracted! Let it cool down a notch, then go for it, be sluttish, allow little batter kisses to splash and pop on their own.

Pour out two side by side, a cute fit for his mouth. Uh-oh, this one’s got an indecent circumference — never mind, it’s likely to be a one-off. Wondering how much batter is left? Chase those laggard dregs with the tip of your spatula, leave nothing to the imagination.

Slide the pan slice under, the way he slides his hands into your panties. Quick, or everything will be spoiled! Do not toss — too risky. Forgot to warm the plates? Use body heat instead.

Layer your darlings foxy side up, then shovel sugar over the top. Squeeze both half lemons ’til his pips squeak. Serve — with a flash of cleavage.

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Lise Colas
Lit Up

writes poetry and short fiction as well as quirky unreliable memoir and lives on the south coast of England.