the great pancake disaster

Music: The Re-Arranger by Mates of State

Yesterday, I just made the worst batch of pancakes, ever.

Blame it on the fact that I’ve been sick for one week and counting, or my kuya’s ridiculous tale (that I cannot even remember anymore), or my sudden culinary inspiration to add cinnamon in the pancake-and-water mix. Whatever the reason, I must have over-mixed the batter (something the instructions on the outside of the box emphasized NOT to do), because when I poured the first glomp on the skillet, the thing bubbled like mad and refused to be apart from the black pan.

When I finally succeeded in salvaging as much as I could from the weird concoction, it didn’t even look like a pancake anymore. More like oversized, mushy bread leftovers. Burnt, oversized, mushy bread leftovers.

I’m like, OMGWTFBBQ.

I have made countless pancakes in my time. Some were close to perfect, others not so much, but definitely edible. The horrid thing in front of me then could definitely cause food poisoning.

I was devastated. I had more than half a bowl of pancake batter in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

Breathing in and out, trying to calm myself, I listed my options inside my woozy head:

Option one: Add flour to the batter. This will make the taste bland, but I could always add sugar. Problem: I’m not sure if that will work, or if it will make the mixture more horrible than it already was.

Option two: Add cornstarch instead. Problem: Refer to option number one.

Option three: Throw the batter away, and start over. Problem: I don’t like wasting food.

Option four: Be adventurous. Bake the damned thing. Problem: I’m not really much of a baker. Pfft.

I opted for option four. I mean, what was the worst that could happen, right?

(Flashback: When I was in grade school, a friend and I tried baking a chocolate cake for our parents. The cake ended up as a sludge of brown, gooey thing that our parents couldn’t stop laughing and talking about it for days. Another flashback: In college, I baked a batch of brownies for (and with) my best friend/crush. We ended up with a batch of hard cookies instead. To be fair, I blame it mostly on the flirting in the kitchen.)

I poured a tablespoon of cooking oil in the batter (no, the original instructions did not require oil so I didn’t bother), took out a rectangular baking tray, poured the batter in it, and popped it in our oven toaster, setting the timer to fifteen minutes.

As I waited for the thing to finish baking, several scenarios went through my head:

Scenario one: The batter will be overbaked and inedible, and not only have I wasted precious food, but I wasted electricity as well.

Scenario two: My sisters will not like the taste, but I can always force them to eat it. Or I can finish it up myself, and suffer from a stomachache later.

Scenario three: The glomp will actually turn out okay, coming out of the toaster as a decent-enough-bread-thingy that I can serve for breakfast. Or a late snack. Since it was already, like, close to ten a.m. then.

Sceanrio three happened. I was saved.

And to make things better, several hours later, my sister came out of her room, went to the kitchen, looked at the empty plate where the pancake-turned-bread used to be, and asked, “Wala nang pancake?”

the great putobumbong hunt

Music: Knock Out episode via our TV set :p

I get weird cravings sometimes, and they usually last for a month (mostly because it takes me that long to find the food I’m looking for). I remember way back last year (or was it last, last year) that I craved for takoyaki so badly I searched different malls and bazaars just to find a takoyaki stall. I found one at the Megamall A food court. After a few days, I saw takoyaki stands everywhere.

Just a couple of months ago, I had a terrible craving for kwek-kwek (quail eggs fried with orange flour), but the stalls which sell them made me fear a relapse of typhoid fever (yes dinuguan, I blame you for that). It took me about another month to actually find a clean-enough-looking stall to buy kwek-kwek from. A week later, I saw two new stalls that sell fish balls, squid balls, and yes, even kwek-kwek.

Next was the controversial avocado ice cream. This was trickier, because not all groceries sell that flavor. Finally, I had to drag Lorraine to Megamall in search of a cone, which thankfully BTIC has. The events after that will remain unspoken of, mostly because I still like to pretend that none of it happened. Let's just say it involved a stalker and some, uh, stalking?

Then last November I suddenly had a craving for putobumbong. Knowing that it was nearing Christmas, I figured that bibingka stalls would sprout like weed in every corner, and for one month I searched for the perfect putobumbong...all in vain. It took me two weeks to find one measly stall, and it was situated in a place so inconvenient that I would have to go down from the jeepney on my way home from church just so I could buy some. I never did, mostly because I feared that it would not be worth it. Yes, I'm stupid like that.

Finally, about two weeks ago, my sister's boyfriend mentioned a friend's family who sold putobumbong somewhere in San Roque, Marikina. One cold evening, on our way home from theater practice, I asked--commanded--my sister to take a detour to said place so we could finally buy some.

It was worth it.

The sticky, violet malagkit was just the right amount of texture I wanted, and the combination of sugar and coconut shreds added to the light, fluffy flavor I prefer. I was so happy I finished two sets in one night. Which is, of course, bad for my stomach, but I didn't care. The great putobumbong hunt was over.

The following day, my cousin told me the store outside our condominium had set up a bibingka and putobumbong stand just that evening.

Damn it.