When I was in High School and thin as a rail, a rail being a portion of railroad track, my parents allowed me to fry up a pancake whenever I wished, morning, noon, night, in-between any meal, before a meal, after one, anytime at all. Folded with jelly inside like a jelly sandwich, my own invention way back there, and I still like that better than a regular pancake with maple syrup, an attitude in America nearly unpatriotic.
I could have beer too, anytime I wanted, but don't tell anybody. Oops.
But I was not so advanced as to know that pancakes mixture did not have to come premixed and out of a box, that there was something original that the boxed mix is imitating did not occur to me, for I was born into a premixed convenience-food world.
And to discover this masa pancake so late is truly being slow on the uptake. Masa harina is even easier than pancake mix and more reliable and more delicious and way more satisfying. And it is definitely better for you too, I imagine. But nobody cares about that.
Cheese on top.
Beef and bean chili.
Señor DeMille, estoy listo por mi primer plano.
ARTS!
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