Pancake choreography

Jake left early to help his parents move some furniture, so naturally I decided this was the perfect time to attempt pancakes from scratch. No recipe, just vibes and whatever was left in the pantry after our grocery laziness this week.

Master chef at work.

Turns out my pancake-flipping technique is better suited for performance art than actual breakfast. The first one landed half on the plate, half on the counter. The second one somehow folded itself into origami. By pancake number three, I’d given up on perfection and started choreographing my spatula work to the music playing from my phone.

Pancake choreography

That’s the exact moment I realized I was having way too much fun failing at breakfast. The pancakes tasted like cardboard mixed with optimism, but I couldn’t stop laughing at my own ridiculous morning kitchen concert. Sometimes the best part of cooking alone is that nobody’s there to judge your questionable life choices or your interpretive pancake dance.

Jake came home to find me eating cereal and a sink full of pancake evidence. His only comment: ‘Next time, invite me to the show.’ Already planning the encore performance.