The Daily Pancake
A pancake in the morning feels indulgent... but every day?
I must have first noticed it not long after Ross, the new roommate, moved in last year.
A pancake in the morning feels indulgent—something to do on a lazy Saturday. I can understand an occasional breakfast-for-dinner pancake, perhaps coupled with some eggs and hashbrowns. I love some butter and syrup. Throw some fruit in there? Sure.
Ross seemed keen on pancakes at any time, though, and especially in the afternoon. Eventually, I realized that Ross was frying up a cake seemingly every day.
I had to confirm. One day, I confronted him in the kitchen. “Hey man… What’s the deal with the pancakes?”
He responded, almost laconically, “Daily cake,” and proceeded to flip his pancake.
Ross does indeed make a pancake every day. Sometimes it’s a well-earned post ride snack. Other times, a midday pick-me-up. This guy eats a lot of pancakes—our house could be an IHOP with this kind of throughput.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ross has refined a thorough system. He always uses Kodiak Cake mix. He prepares the batter in an aluminum cup, first cracking an egg and adding water before putting in the batter. This ordering, allegedly, keeps the batter from sticking to the sides of the cup. Some days, the cake is of modest size; other days demand a cake the size of the pan. He’s particular about his toppings:
Topping variations aside, the Daily Cake itself is a consistent, comforting routine—not only to Ross, but also to me.
I’m not sure why the constancy of this cake grabbed my attention, but I’ve found myself thinking about it in the abstract on more than one occasion. I’ve brought it up to friends (“Did you know Ross makes a pancake every day?”) and queried them, trying to extract some kind of meaning from this ritual. “He probably just likes pancakes,” they say, reasonably. But I’m sure there’s something else there. Is it just a habit? Hobby? Addiction?
After some more consideration, I think I’ve got it. Despite his many reps, things still go wrong. Sometimes, the flip doesn’t go as planned, the batter is the wrong consistency, or a careless stretch of inattention leads to a charred cake. This isn’t a pursuit of perfection, as I once presumed. It’s an acknowledgement of the impossibility of it.
I’m guilty of a certain degree of perfectionism. The Daily Cake reminds me of its futility and the importance of not only accepting imperfection, but embracing it. Things will go wrong. That is okay. You can still eat your daily cake, and it will make your day that much better. With that said, Ross, I hope your next pancake flip is clean and produces a flawless flapjack.
Sounds like Ross is a fellow cyclist. I hope to share some pancakes with him and next year’s SLOP. I like a lot of unpredictability and spontaneity in life. But every single morning starts with one cup of black coffee and a slice to toast with crunchy peanut butter, banana, and a drizzle of honey. Literally every morning. My wife thinks I’m crazy. Even in a roadside motel, I find a way. It’s like the one daily ritual I need to otherwise face whatever may come. I wonder if Ross relates.
And if they ever find adverse health effects of peanut butter, I’m done for.