Pass Ion

Today is the greatest of all the holidays. It is the only one that involves no gift giving of any kind, scalding hot implements, and thick gooey batter.

I'm a mean pancake flipping machine, and let it be known that only a flipped pancake contains the true measure of taste, those that are spatula-turned taste flat and limp compared to the joy that exudes from a pancake that has defied gravity.

My toppings of choice are traditional, some butter, sugar, and lemon juice. I normally avoid lemons, the only other ingestion I make of them being as part of an occasional rock shandy, but there is something magic about the combination of a lemony tang with the sweet greasiness of the butter and the savoury lightness of the pancake.

My batter was made last night in a flurry of activity after I came home from the slog - it is highly recommended that it be allowed to settle for at least 30 minutes before use - the more old-school and prepared among us go for the overnight.

It will be late by the time I get my chops around one at all, for I must dance this eve, but pancakes and highlights after a delightful Tango seem like a pleasant reward for my Tuesday efforts.