I hate pancakes.
My god, you can’t imagine the overly dramatic reactions this little phrase of mine gets. I’d say at least every three weeks this happens – this moment of true shock, sitting at breakfast with an unsuspecting friend. It’s not like my frank dislike for those dry, unsatisfying cakes was something I decided though. I’ve just always hated them. How they’ve become one of the most popular breakfast foods is beyond me.
In fact, all I see when a plate of pancakes arrives is a sad excuse for nutrition. The cooked up slabs of batter are neither healthy nor unhealthy; they’re confusing and I reject them. Oh! And for the flavor – well, they’re tasteless at best. I’ll admit that some are better than others, but each type seems…unappetizing. They come sitting atop one another, seeming to melt unhappily into a pile: a bland and dismal stack of pancakes, straight from a trusty box of Bisquick.
To be fair, the bright, promising packaging and overall advertisement of the hotcakes tells a different story – one that draws you into its lies. Okay, that’s dramatic, but it’s true that you’ll never make heap of pancakes as pristine as the picture on the box, presented delicately by the oh-so-homey Aunt Jemima or Mrs. Butterworth herself.
Ah, and the syrups! They’re just another aspect that backs up my disagreement with the ‘loveable’ flapjack. Kids squeeze buckets of maple syrup and lather excessive amounts of butter on their pancakes, as if to mask their inherent flavorlessness and fool themselves into enjoying the meal. The cakes absorb these artificial liquids with soppy excitement, too, creating a conglomeration of useless, unnatural elements and passing it off as 'breakfast.’
Well, I don’t buy it (the argument, or the product). Though I realize this could be the most unpopular opinion of the century, I hold true to my taste buds.
