Saturday was one of those, wow, it’s so beautiful and sunny and cool and perfect for fall pancakes and also for a bird to fly right into your glass sliding door and die.
What, you’ve never had one of those Saturdays?
Well, it started like this:
I woke up on Saturday morning with the strong desire for Paleo Pancakes. You know, my favoritist paleoish recipe. All you do is mix 1 banana with 1 egg and 1 spoonful of almond butter to make pancake batter. It’s rather genius and I thank Mark’s Daily Apple for this recipe every night before bed.
I always have almond butter and usually have eggs but I needed a banana. So I went to the grocery store and what do I see? Dozens of bunches of green bananas. Great for a girl with a few days to putz around waiting for bananas to turn yellow. But I was hungry NOW.
I contemplated going to Starbucks and buying one banana for like $16, but on my way I got a seedling of an idea. What could I replace banana with that would also be fallish and wonderful? Apple sauce? Too thin. It needed the consistency of a banana. Apple butter? Hmm.. but is that too many butters? Canned pumpkin? CANNED PUMPKIN!!?!?! OMG I’m the smartest person alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I get about here in my pancake making process and SMACKOBANGO. Whaaaaat was that? But deep down, I already knew. I walked over to the sliding door and there, on the ground, was a bird. He wasn’t dead yet, but I’m pretty sure his neck was broken. So I did what any normal person would do. I took a picture of it.
And then I opened the door and sat on the edge and talked to the bird for awhile. I talked about life and how it is just too short and how you never know if you’re just going to go out to get a pack of cigarettes for your bird wifey, or if you’re going to fly straight into someone’s glass sliding door. You probably didn’t even kiss your bird babymama and three squawking kids before you left. Do you have any regrets, bird? What would you have done differently? Worn sunblock? Made peace with your father who left you in the nest to fend for yourself? Started that tree house coffee shop? He stared at me for a long time saying nothing. I walked away to finish my pancakes. What? I needed to finish them. Life’s too short, remember?
I went back to check on the bird several times. He moved from the door to under the table. It was weird. I’ve never watched anything die before. I stacked all my pancakes up on a plate to bring outside. And guess what? Bird was gone. Poof. I’d like to think I gave him the strength for one last flight home. Maybe he picked up flowers for his boo on the way. Or worms for the bubs. Maybe he had a miraculous full recovery.
I ate my pancakes and vowed to do two things: always kiss people goodbye before I leave the house, and try to leave more streaky marks on our glass sliding doors.
This post is dedicated to Bird.
May the wind always be at your back
And a glass sliding door not be at your front.
*After several comments, regarding these pancakes, I decided I’d add a few notes below.
Dear anyone who has stumbled upon my blog to make these pancakes,
This post was meant to be more of a story than a recipe post. I did not intend for people to read this post and assume I was giving instructions on cooking these pancakes. For that, I apologize that any way this post was read, led you to follow this story into the kitchen.
I did not give time, heat, or measurements in this post, so when people comment saying THIS DIDN”T WORK, I can only say that I don’t know what you gathered from a story about a dead bird that led you to creating these pancakes at all.
I did, however, answer some questions in the comment section below, but again, I was not thorough in my detail.
Soon, I will attempt to make these pancakes again, and when I do, I will keep track of exactly how I made them, for those interested.
Meanwhile, one comment below is very detailed and may be useful to readers looking to create these pancakes.
I apologize for any misunderstanding, and also, to several people, for the complete missed point of this post.
Sincerely, The Paleo Project