Saturday, January 25, 2014

absolute rubbish.


Been experimenting with cornflour pancakes recently (yes I just saw that phrase emerge from my fingertips, no I don't know who I am either) and today I'm pretty sure I nailed it.  A hybrid of a number of recipes, these guys are yellow and cornbready without being full-on johnnycakes; I'm usually a proponent of vanilla and cinnamon in my breakfast bread products, but these are better left alone to lean toward savory.  If you're achin for some sweetness after they've been cooked, top them with honey butter or maple syrup or homemade fig jam (!!!!!!!) and you will not be disappointed. PS they also happen to be gluten free.  Everybody dance.

Cornflour Pancakes
makes 9 five-inch rounds

3/4 cup cornflour (this is not the same as cornmeal)
1/4 cup brown rice flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 egg
2 tablespoons honey

All the dry things in one bowl, all the wet things in another.  Mix separately, then combine, and then mix together until smooth.

Drop 1/4 cup worth of batter at a time onto a heated, greased pan.  If you live in a country where PAM is a thing, use that, and say a grateful prayer to the heavens.  If you do not, use a little bit of butter.  Its totally indulgent and totally delicious and makes the pancakes a little crispy on the edges and there is not a single thing wrong with that.  As with all pancakes, wait until the side facing up has bubbled and popped before flipping.  Repeat with the remaining batter, and consume immediately, if you can even wait that long.


RE: post title.  I'm writing this from a couch in my new favorite Madrid coffeeshop, and next to me sitting in the window ledge are these two British men.  I'm totally eavesdropping (to my defense they are SHOUTING so I have no choice), and one just told the other that he cannot stand hearing young people speak.  "It is an infernal noise," he said.  "Their grasp of language is absolute rubbish."

I feel like pointing out to him, in my best Bridget Jones, that it would perhaps have been advantageous of him to select a different cafe at which to take his tea, as this one used to be a bike repair shop and is thus understandably teeming with flannel wearing youth just SPEAKING all over the place.  But I don't trust my fake accent enough, so I'll just tell you instead.

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