A few weekends ago we bundled the girls up early on a Saturday morning and hustled across the street for an all-you-can-stand-to-consume-in-a-public-venue pancake and sausage fundraiser for the Catholic church's school band.
We always try to support the arts, but little did we know that there, amidst the hundred or so people happily downing flapjacks and skinless link pork products, would we discover a new culinary twist on an old-time favorite.
Sitting next to us at the long, 12-person table, was PK's dance instructor and her familly. This wonderful woman is unfortunately undergoing chemo/radio therapy for breast cancer and we've gotten used to seeing her at lessons and around town with her knit hats and doo-rags donning her noggin.
After the familiar conversational niceties, we all dug into our first of hopefully many platters of griddle cakes, when what did my wondering eyes did appear, but a jar of Braum's peanut butter emerging from the Dance Teacher's oversize tote bag. I covertly nudged my wife and we both proceeded to watch her spread the gooey pressed peanut product over the tops of her pancakes. With the delicacy of a 4-year old doing a grand plie, she then poured the table syrup over the entire stack of doughy comestibles and dug in.
I had to comment.
Was this a special dietary menu to fortify her chemo weakened bones with some sugary protein?
Were we witnessing a new Rachel Ray-inspired snack'em method of eating your way to $40-a-day?
It obviously tasted wonderful, but did Elvis have anything at all to do with this savory syrup sub-layer?
None of the above. She just liked it that way.
Sometimes the simplest answer is also the most satisfying.