Doubtless, over the coming days, condescending celebrity chefs will be appearing on tv telling us how to make the perfect batter mix for Pancake Day.
C’mon, how stupid do they think we all are? What idiot can’t make a pancake?
Well, me. I’ve no idea how I can ladle the same batter mix, from the same bowl into the same frying pan and create a first pancake that is too thick, a second pancake that is too thin and a third pancake that is just right.
This would only be acceptable and brilliant if I was making pancakes for The 3 Bears.
James Martin will make a perfect batter mix in two minutes and then produce a more perfect mix that he’s had “resting in the fridge.”
Clearly, he was never a student because I could never have had a batter mix “resting in the fridge” without a drunken flat mate coming in at 2am, opening the fridge and spooning it into their mouth believing it to be a slightly runny and tasteless Angel Delight.
Antony Worrall Thompson will always make a batter mix using beer. Maybe inspired by his college days where he’d drunkenly try eating a batter mix from the fridge and deciding it needs a good bottle of “Old Cobnoppers Amber Pigeon” to give it flavour.
The guy’s obsessed and I’m sure I’ve seen him pour beer into recipes for gravy, mashed potatoes, custard and scrambled eggs.
Maybe we shouldn’t blame him for making a beer batter because pancakes without flavouring are just bland.
Not too long ago, mums would lovingly pour a whole bag of sugar over their pancakes and feed them to their children.
Luckily, they’re now better educated and have heeded all the warnings about childhood obesity and now smother their pancakes with Nutella in a similar way that Russians encase leaking nuclear reactors in concrete.
These are the same parents who pay for fake lemon juice in a plastic lemon-shaped container, rather than buying an actual lemon.
It’s all flipping ridiculous.