Samantha: So, how were they?
Carrie: The pancakes? Delicious, exactly what I wanted. I couldn’t get enough.
Samantha: No, I was referring to the “moves”.
Carrie: Delicious, exactly what I wanted. I couldn’t get enough.
Months ago, while surfing breakfast recipes, I found one called Beer and Bacon Mancakes.
(Skim recipe now because I refer to it throughout this entire post.) I printed it and then skillfully etched it into the part of my brain that forgets.
Last Sunday, our family of three woke up with an itch. An itch to eat. An itch to cook. An itch to create.
The three of us took turns scanning the refrigerator. The freezer. The pantry. Then going back to the refrigerator. Freezer. Pantry. Waiting for something in the form of delicious goodness to catch our eyes and breed itself into a beautiful concoction of Tasty Love. This Ain’t No Ordinary Love. It’s Tasty Love.
We found an obvious choice:
However, the itch to create was eating away at us and my mind slowly opened up to reveal none other than the Beer and Bacon Mancakes recipe. We broke out the bacon and rejoiced!
We didn’t follow the recipe exactly. For one, we already had the spectacularly easy Bisquick Shake ‘n Pour pancake mix, so why fuck up a good thing, right? Secondly, I broke my recipe down into 271 generously explained, super easy steps.
Here we go!
The instructions on the bottle say to fill it with water to the line that is on the bottle. Cap it. Shake it. Instead of water, I used beer.
STEP ONE: Open the beer, pour it in a glass and let it foam. Let it sit until the foam is gone.
If you don’t let it sit, it will foam too much when you add it to the Shake ‘n Pour.
STEP TWO: In the mean time, cook your bacon until it’s pretty crispy, but not burned.
We didn’t put brown sugar on our bacon like the recipe, but that’s something I plan to do with prior proper planning.
We used black pepper bacon because we’re Southern and that’s in The Handbook.
STEP THREE: Once your bacon is cooked, well drained, and cooled, chop it up into small pieces. As small as you can get them. Like pea sized.
I was a wee bit hungover and not finished with my bloody mary, yet, so I quit chopping after the heavy chopping motions made me nautious. Mine were quarter sized.
STEP FOUR: Slowly pour your beer into the bottle up to the line. Cap it. Shake what yo momma gave ya.
Not really. That shit would have foamed up all over the kitchen if I shook what my momma gave me. So take it easy. Just take your time and do little shakes with frequent pauses to see if it’s foaming. The boring way to do this would be to pour the bottle contents into a bowl and then fold in the beer. That would probably take one hand to stir and one hand to hold the bowl. I needed my other hand for my bloody mary. Solely based on that, I went the one-handed route.
STEP FIVE: Open the bottle and add your bacon.
STEP SIX: Cap it. Shake it again.
I assume you were smarter than me and preheated your skillet with a little dab of butter in the middle. If not, then…
STEP SEVEN: Get your skillet out and heat it on medium high and throw a little dab of butter in the middle.
STEP EIGHT: When the butter melts, give your bottle another little shake and pour out some 4″ cakes.
You can do bigger, but we stuck with four inches because we’re on a diet.
STEP NINE: Flip.
Both of them.
Mrs. Butterworth’s used to be my favorite syrup. Now it’s this organic stuff. The organic kind is super expensive, but I love it and I hardly use syrup, so this one bottle lasts me a long time. That’s how I rationalize the $7.50 I paid for it. (Hint: Grade A is better than Grade B.)
STEP TEN: Stack the cakes. Spread the butter. Pour the syrup. Garnish with bacon.
There are 261 more steps. One for each calorie.