This morning it was a German Pancake (I decided to bake it instead of fry it, like the recipe told me to do. And I baked it at a ridiculously low temperature, or so I was informed. oops).
A couple weeks ago it was Swedish Pancakes.
Every time I try to make my favorite Fluffy Pancakes they are never the same as they were in Illinois.
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| The general attitude I have towards baking right now (not my own image nor does it have anything specifically to do with this post) |
Let's face it. I was just never cut out to be a pancake maker. I've tried my hand at bread, and I intend on perfecting baking in the High Altitude of the Western States, because, let's face it, I will most likely end up staying out here the rest of my life. Hopefully not in Idaho...I wouldn't mind Oregon. And if I am to remain sane, I must learn the art of baking in the mountains so everything remains satisfactory, lest I lose all of my marbles permanently.
Something else I have learned...when you keep your old sour milk, it really is ONLY good for things that require Buttermilk and not anything else.
Sometimes experimenting is good. In baking, it's a scary scary thing.
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