Magic Wineglass Tours

Category: food

  • All Things Italian

    So I was cruising around YouTube on my TV, watching all sorts of Italian travel guides, trip videos, and recommendations. I stumbled upon one called ‘How not to eat in Italy’ and the title tickled me. My first response was, “Why would anyone want to not eat in Italy?” haha! But the subtitle was ‘My biggest mistakes as a tourist’. Interested to know if our experiences were similar, I pressed play.

    The salient point of the video was presented immediately: “My biggest mistake was expecting to find all of Italy in all of Italy.” Bingo! This was the perfect description of my first trip.

     It took one misstep after another to discover just exactly how regional Italy is. Coming from the highly homogenized United States, where you can expect every grocery store to have a nearly identical canned goods aisle and a produce department, every town to have a post office flying a flag out front and at least one good burger joint, it was stunning to discover how encapsulated Italian regions can be.

    How not to eat in Italy. Best analogy? Don’t try to order grits at a restaurant in Boston. Even if they’re on the menu. (Which is highly unlikely.) 

    Food is distinctly regional in Italy. And although you may see bolognese on a menu in Rome or Naples, the odds are it’s not going to be that rich and delicious sauce you’ll find in its native Bologna. It’s not like America, where you can appease your craving for Tex-Mex in North Carolina, or find Maine lobster surf-n-turf at your favorite steakhouse. We mix it up. If you see it mixed up like that in Italy, it’s the influence of tourism, not the specialty of the house. 

    There’s a lot of pride in that regionality. If you take a moment to discover the specialities of your locale, you’ll find an astonishing degree of excellence. (My son told me it looked like Michelin stars are handed out like pez candies all over Italy. But there’s a reason so many restaurants there are highly rated… it’s the food!)

    So do your homework. On the same YouTube video, the traveler’s Italian wife suggests a Google search in Italian, for genuine results. If you search for typical Roman food, the result is *popular* food in Rome. She recommends you search for “piatti tipici di roma”.  I tried it, and agree wholeheartedly. 

    In Rome:

    • Bucatini all’amatriciana.
    • Rigatoni alla carbonara.
    • Tonnarelli cacio e pepe.
    • Carciofo alla giudia.
    • Carciofo alla romana.
    • Supplì al telefono.
    • Fiori di zucca fritti.

    In Florence:

    • Crostini Neri.
    • Crespelle alla Fiorentina.
    • Bistecca alla Fiorentina.
    • Trippa & Lampredotto.
    • Peposo.
    • Baccalà alla fiorentina.

    In Venice:

    • La polenta.
    • Bigoli in salsa.
    • Bigoli con l’anitra.
    • Risotto de gò.
    • Risi e bisi.
    • Scampi alla busèra.

    Moral of the story: Do not look for all of Italy in all of Italy. You will find Roman in Rome, Venetian in Venice, Florentine in Florence, and Neapolitan in Naples. (You can do yourself a further favor by saying Roma, Venezia, Firenze, and Napoli – the actual names of the cities.) 

    An addendum: I had the same experience shopping. I’d decided to save my souvenir hunt for my last days which would be in Rome, so that I didn’t have to carry my treasures everywhere. You can imagine my disappointment when, even in that large metropolis, I was unable to find the Venetian lace and Amalfi pottery I had so admired. I should have gotten the limoncello in Sorrento, and the leather bag in Florence. Lesson learned. 

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  • Fresh + Local = Supper

    Fresh + Local = Supper

    I stopped at a roadside stand in Georgia this week, and picked up some of the sweetest peaches, ever. The vidalia onions were enormous and irresistible, so those went into my market bag, too. I’ve been eating the peaches all week, but the onions were waiting for today…

    Wednesday means the Waynesville Farmer’s Market is open!  So, Wednesday afternoon found me making a quick stop at the King Harvest Farm stand for tomatoes (eaten immediately) and yellow beans (asking Terry King about the difference, she said, “They’re yellow.”) and fingerling potatoes.

    Today, the full-on market was in swing, so I buzzed down there and bought scallops (Hillbilly Shrimp Market) and rainbow chard (and I’m so sorry I didn’t get the name of Justin’s farm) among other things, and headed home with my haul.

    First, the bacon.  I rendered the grease from just a couple pieces of bacon, in a cast iron pan.  I set aside a tablespoon of the drippings, and then deep-fried the potatoes and beans.  (If you’ve never tried flash fried beans – I don’t care what color they are – do yourself a favor.  It’s lovely.)

    Then it was time to quickly saute the chard and onions in the remaining bacon grease.

    I deglazed the pan with a bit of white wine and set it aside as a sauce for the scallops.  Then it was time for these babies: I added a fat pat of butter and the reserved bacon grease to the center of the pan and let them do their thing.

    Meanwhile, my dish is ready!  On a bed of sauteed chard and onions, topped with lightly salted fingerlings and flash fried yellow beans, I crumbled a slice of bacon on the top for good measure.

    Then it was time to add the scallops and drizzle with that phenomenal sauce…

    And voila’!  So fresh, local produce, and I know there’s one last peach in the kitchen for dessert, later.  I’ve poured myself a glass of the pinot grigio I used to deglaze the pan (hey, that insures it will pair nicely, hmmm?) and it’s time to dig in.

    I was keeping a friend posted all throughout this adventure, and was asked later if they came out well.

    I’m going with yes.

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  • Saturday morning at the Farmer’s Market

    This particular Saturday morning at the market was special: I was meeting up with a bride. Ron & Cheryl were married here last November, and now (because I’m insanely lucky) they are also my part-time neighbors. Our schedules have kept us like ships passing in the night, and I’m always arriving in Maggie Valley just as Cheryl is leaving, and vice versa. Today was the magical day. “See you at 10!”

    I have a friend who tells me when I’m dressing ‘too old’ and so I’ve been working on that.  Still.  Today, I fired off a picture to another buddy and said, “Hey, look!  I’m dressing up like a twelve year old and going to the farmer’s market.”

    But wait, I have this really cool bag…

    He pronounced me farmers-markety and therefore qualified to leave the house, and off I went.

    The Waynesville Farmer’s Market is awesome.  It’s certainly not the largest market I’ve ever been to (it might even be the smallest) but the faces are friendly, the farmers are sincerely interested in knowing what you would like to have, how you’re going to use their produce, and are passionate about what they do.  Frankly, I think you’d have to be passionate about farming to do it – it’s not going to make them millionaires.  The payoff has to be more than monetary, to make folks work that diligently and consistently.  Lordy, I just have to sleep in, now and then.  These folks really know their stuff.

    I especially enjoy following Terry King on facebook – she and her hubby have King Harvest Farm – because she posts about what’s growing and what’s not, and what to expect at the market each week.  It’s fun to follow along, and it’s awfully nice to know what to plan for on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings.  And I do like her twisty sense of humor.  Her post earlier this week still has me laughing:

    Open pollinated = Poodle.
    Hybrid = Poodle + Labrador = Labradoodle
    GMO = Poodle + Salamander = DNA manipulation

    Bah hahahahaha I want to see the illustrations!!  Terry, yer killin’ me!  Shop here, folks, for nonGMO and nonSaladoodle (because seriously, who wants doodle in their salad) produce.  King Harvest Farm at the Waynesville Historic Farmer’s Market on Wednesday afternoons 3:30-6:30 –right handy for those of us who find shopping on Saturday mornings a challenge– and the main market on Saturdays 8-noon.  This is not to say the rest of the folks at the market are not stellar, this is just the one whose name I know.  Plus I like their stuff.  A lot.

    So.  Today.  First the social stuff – CHERYL!!!!  YAY!!!

    Holy cow omigosh we are adorable, aren’t we?  I have yet to master the whole selfie thing.  So…. I stole this one from my bride (thank you, Cheryl).  We stopped by King Harvest Farm (naturally) and then made our way down the row and behold!  Another friend!  I haven’t seen Monica in a year.  She’s selling her free range eggs at the market, so there’s yet another good reason to head that way on a Saturday morning.  And here’s our merry band…

    But we had more merrymaking a.k.a. shopping to do.  We found a delightful new vendor, the goat lady.  Right out of Cold Mountain.  (Ok not.  She is unlikely to harm her goats, which she says are like a herd of 160 pound great danes.)  Her business is Wholly Goats Soaps & Such -the name just tickles me- and you’ll find her at the Saturday market, as well.  All her soaps are made with goat’s milk from her very own goats, and nonGMO oils (no doodle in your salad there either, folks) and I am gaga over the Amazon Lily & Rain fragrance.  There was a good bit of discussion about just what’s in there (lemon, grass, pine) but if you hug me in the next few weeks, that’s the scent you’ll notice.  Yummy.

    We wandered about and enjoyed the booths and chatting with vendors.  Ron was in his element, talking organic fertilizer (his business and his passion) with all these farmers.

    And Cheryl and I were shopping away.  I was very excited to find Three Graces Dairy represented!  You can bet my Netflix binging tonight will include the lovely manchego style cheese from Three Graces, and a nice glass of Pinot Grigio which is presently chilling in my fridge.

    The steamy hot weather had us checking out Waynesville Soda Jerks and I’m here to tell you, that blueberry basil soda is awesome.  And the perfect thing for a summer day.  I’ll be doing THAT again.

    I also picked up some rainbow chard to go with the yellow beans and fingerling potatoes from King Harvest earlier this week.

    Me:  Hey, Terry, what’s the difference between these yellow beans and regular green beans?
    Terry:  They’re yellow.
    Haha, maybe it’s like British humor, and you really had to be there.  Trust me.  It was funny.

    And some scallops.  Because – yes yes yes I know, I’m in the mountains, but people, listen: the Waynesville Farmer’s Market is THE place around here to buy seafood!  They’re bringing it in fresh from the coast.  Seriously like outa the water fresh.  And I got these fellas to take pity on me (now that I’m cooking for one) and just sell me three absolutely perfectly fresh and lovely scallops.  More to come on that.

    This fellow, from Betsy’s Farm, had an enormous bag of basil, just for me.  I love that he has just the one head of garlic left.  Betting that basket was full this morning!

    All in all, a pretty good turnout at the market.  I am so glad that I remembered my shopping bag this time.  I’m generally awful about that, so today I had a real sense of accomplishment, with all my yummies in my bag, arms full, ready to return home.  Looks like I’m not the only one.  There were some shoppers out there!

    Next up…. a post about that amazing meal.  Y’all drive safe.  🙂

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  • The Creek House kitchen

    I have been remiss.  With eleventy bazillion photos of the Creek House all over this website and also www.maggievalleycottage.com, I didn’t realize I skipped pictures of my hands-down favorite place to be – in the kitchen!

    Now, this is not a dream house magazine spread designer gourmet kitchen.  Far from it.  It isn’t snazzy.  But it makes you feel so *welcome*.  It’s a cook-in-your-socks kind of kitchen.  And after making breakfast in here for the past eighteen years (how in the world did that much time fly by?!) I confess that I never want to spend any time in another drywall ho-hum boring kitchen.  I love my mismatched cabinets, hardwood floors, low ceiling beams covered in mugs.  The hooks are horseshoe nails fashioned into cup hooks for me by a blacksmith, back when we had one of those in Maggie Valley.

    There are treasures in every corner, and little odd places to tuck in another bit here, another bit there.  I’ve filled it with things I love to use, and it’s an easy place to work.

    So this week, when a very nice lady asked for kitchen pictures, I was stunned to find out that in my many tens of thousands of pictures on my computer, I couldn’t find any of the kitchen!  That’s because… wait for it… guess what: when I’m in the kitchen, I’m COOKING, not taking pictures haha!

    Without further ado, voila: The Kitchen, before and after…

     

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  • Picnic Lunch in the Great Smoky Mountains

    At last!  Something special for our hikers.

    Our Picnic Package always includes the basket – so that you can take it with you on your travels. We’ve just gotten in our newest edition of baskets: a backpack! These things are SO COOL! The body of the backpack is insulated, and when you unzip the outside section, voila: dishes and utensils.

    We think the slip pocket is ideally suited for a trail map…

    Take your picnic into the mountains to enjoy in the high country of Western North Carolina. We’ll provide you with directions to some wonderful spots for a picnic –choose from the Blue Ridge Parkway, the historic Cataloochee Valley, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, or right here at Timberwolf Creek alongside the stream.

    Enjoy freshly baked bread (sandwich filled to order) and fruit and cheese and veggies and olives and sweets and beverages and the list goes on… There’s usually a pie in there somewhere… Nothing like finding a whole entire pie in the bottom of your picnic basket 🙂 and of course all the implements you’ll need to enjoy that pie, and the rest of your picnic.

    But wait, you’re not a hiker?  No worries.  The backpacks lend themselves to all sorts of outings.  The insulated compartment keeps everything nice, so you can take this on your road trip and have lunch along the way (some of the highway rest areas have really beautiful picnic areas) instead of just hitting another fast food drive through window.  Or tuck a book into the front pocket, pack snacks and head for the park.  Do you bring your lunch to work?  Take turns with a friend, and blow them away when you arrive with this one, filled with your favorite pasta salad and fresh cut fruit and bakery delights.  And by all means, surprise your sweetheart with a walk in the mountains, a special bottle of wine, exquisite cheese and crunchy goodies.  What a great way to propose…

    Picnics at Timberwolf Creek are packed in a picnic basket/backpack for you to keep. Everything you need for a marvelous lunch in the fine country air.

    And of course, you can always just use it as a backpack.

     

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  • The WNC Cheese Trail – an artisnal delight

    North Carolina has an abundance of artisnal cheesemakers, and we have two within an hour’s drive that you can easily visit during your stay with us.  Out past Cherokee, is Yellow Branch Farm.  They have both cheese and pottery tours (feel free to bring me a piece with that exquisite blue glaze).  And stop on the way back to tube down Deep Creek in Bryson City, or take the seven-mile loop hike and see the waterfalls.

    Heading east past Asheville, you can tour both Looking Glass Creamery (makers of my all-time favorite chocolate lab cheese) and, if you’re feeling adventurous, continue out to Hickory Nut Gap Farm for you-pick berries and apples to perfect your tailgate picnic.  Of course, there are a bazillion little spots to recommend in nearby Asheville, but that’s a post for another day.

    WNC Cheese Trail

    Not looking for a day trip, but still want all that fabulous artisnal cheese?  No problem!  Pop over to Waynesville (ten minutes away) and head down to the Montgomery Street Market for lots and lots of locally made yummies, in addition to all that cheese.

    Or just laze away an afternoon upstairs at the Frog’s Leap Public House, with a lovely glass of wine, and a small-plate of local cheese.  They usually have four or five… and I usually tell them to put everything on a platter and bring it to me…  Now *that* is a fabulous lunch!

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  • Poached Eggs

    Poached Eggs

    Confessions of an Innkeeper: I’ve had my B&B since 1998, I’m 58 years old, and today I poached an egg for the first time in my life. I’m astonished how fast, how simple, how easy – and why in the world have I been so intimidated by this??!?

    Nevermore! Break an egg (cold & fresh) into a small bowl. Put an inch of water in a saucepan. Bring it to a boil and then ease it off to a simmer. Add a teaspoon of salt, two of white vinegar, swirl to make a whirlpool. Ease the egg right into the center of the whirlpool. Cover and remove from heat. NO PEEKING for five minutes. Poof. Egg. I didn’t trim edges, cherry pick the best ones, or anything. This is how they came out. I took them out of the pan with a slotted spoon, laid momentarily on a paper towel and put them in the bowl. That’s it. Oh, and I ate them. With pleasure.

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  • Wine Tasting at Frankie’s Italian Trattoria

    Here are my thoughts re last night’s Italian wine tasting at Frankie’s Italian Trattoria… I’ll start with this: when is the next one?? Because I had SUCH a good time and thoroughly enjoyed it  – tasting new wines, presented by knowledgeable people, and good Italian Winefood, in a great space, with a friendly crowd… Definitely repeatable. The highlight of the wine list, for me, was the Ca’ Viola Barbera d’Alba. It stole my heart.

    There were nine wines, in all.  The evening began on a festive note, with a sparkling Bisol Jeio Cuvee Rose Brut – pink prosecco!  It was lovely, crisp, not too sweet and with the flavor one hopes for from a merlot/pinot noir blend.  It tasted like summer on the porch.

    It was followed by a Greco white that did nothing for me – just not my favorite grape, and this one was no different.

    Next, a new white (new to me) that startled me into a Wow!  What a revelation – and I’m so sorry I didn’t snag a couple of bottles (and am fervently hoping that I find it on the wine list at Frankie’s.)  What is this wonderful ‘new’ white?  (Stop laughing.  I told you it was new to me.  I haven’t tasted ALL the wines, yet.  But I’m working on it.)  Apparently, I’m the last person on the list to drink this wine.  When I researched it a bit, I encountered things like, “Italy’s first white wine to gain international repute,” and, “one of the top-ranking Italian whites today.”  Well, I am blushing.  And I’m also seriously disappointed that I’m so far into my dotage before tasting such a rich white wine.  It’s crisp and flinty, with lots of mineral flavor and still manages to deliver lots of citrus fruit.  Nicely done!  The grape is Cortese, and the region is Gavi, in the Piedmont. This one is Broglia La Meirana.  It’s not often (ok never) that I find a white wine I’d drink year-round.  I’m a seasonal creature: I want red wine until it’s hot outside and then I want pink or white or sparkling.  Chilled.  Cocktails?  Give me rum or bourbon until summer strikes, and then it’s all about the clear stuff.  So.  Back to the Piedmont.

    Yes, yes, I’d love to be totally conversant with all the Italian wine regions, but I’m not.  Oh wait, you aren’t either?  Let’s take a peek at a map, then, shall we?Italian_wine

    Wow.  There are a LOT of regions!  A few years ago, I’d have found that completely intimidating…. because I’d have felt responsible to know them all, master them all, and be able to tell you which is the best known wine from each region.  Well, no more.  Today, I know that honey, it ain’t happenin’.  So, having let that go, it just means there’s a multitude of fine wines, just waiting for me to pick a spot on a map and check it out!  It’s like *Christmas* out there!

    So, today: the Piedmont.  Interestingly enough, this region handed over not only this great white wine, but also some of the superb reds that I already know and love from Italy.  I just call them the B’s.  If I choose one off a wine list, I know that even the mediocre ones will be nice.  Barbera, Barolo, Brunello.  I’d thought they were Tuscan, but apparently, I’m quite a fan of the Piedmont wines.

    Enter into the mix: a taste of Argiano Brunello, from Tuscany.  Oh, I was remarkably unimpressed.  Lovely on the nose, and the initial taste was no surprise, rich and ripe as promised – and loads of tannins, which I enjoy, and then a beautiful finish.  But absolutely nothing in the middle.  Like it was hollow.  I moved on.  (But not before having it pointed out that I’d just dissed a fifty dollar bottle.  Oops!)

    Back to the Piedmont.  Again.  The next was Produttori Nebbiolo Langhe.  It didn’t start or finish as well as the Brunello, but it had all the middle I was missing!  Rich, full, dense, lots of personality.  And the more I sipped, the more I enjoyed it.  Excellent with food- it didn’t challenge the flavors, but it didn’t disappear in your mouth, either.

    Food?  Did I mention food?  Good heavens:  Louis turned out a feast to go with the wines… bruschetta (where he gets flavorful fresh tomatoes in January is a mystery) and olives and cheeses and oh my oh my fresh mozarella drizzled with balsamic vinegar… but I digress.  Ahem.  Wine.

    Because then…. drum roll…  I tasted the perfect wine.  The Ca’ Viola Barbera d’Alba Brichet 2010 is my wine.  (Well, it is now, because I bought some and took it home with me.)  It’s not expensive, under $20, and boy it delivers.  It’s rich and creamy – if wine were made with heavy whipping cream, it would be in this one.  It’s dense, like a port, heavy and tannic, but still balanced.  How do they *do* that?!  I was over the moon.  This wine was downright chewy.  Sure, it was fine with the food, but it didn’t need food to complete it.  I just love this wine.  Did I mention it was my favorite?  I may have.

    It was hard to yank myself back to the present, and not just keep drinking the Barbera all night, but I moved on to taste the Fossacolle Rosso.  Sharing the grapes with Brunello, this was like “Brunello Light”.  It was easy, very drinkable, and light, lots of fruit, and most decidedly not empty in the middle.  It wasn’t chewy and dense like the Barbera, but rather like the thin viscosity and light body you’d expect in a Beaujolais Nouveau.  This is summer’s red wine, when you want something nice on the porch.

    In a similar vein, came the Colosi Nero d’Avola.  I was really expecting a bigger wine from this Sicilian grape.  It was quite nice, and I wouldn’t have been disappointed to be served this anywhere, but it was too light for me.

    Finally, we tried the Colpetrone Sagrintino di Montefalco.  Smack in the center, Umbria delivers a really nice wine.  The balance of light body and peppery fruit made it the perfect wine to sip while finishing off that last bit of cheese from the tasting plate.

    Now – in the middle of all this pouring and tasting and munching and chatting, the sommelier mentioned to me that she believed the Argiano Brunello had been unfairly judged, and needed to breathe a lot more than it had been allowed.  So, here we are an hour later, and she poured me another taste.  People!  Night and day!!  The middle of that wine had finally Arrived.  It was a beautiful thing.  It was also out of my price range, so I just went ahead and savored the taste.  Beginning, middle, long lovely finish, it was all there.

    But you know I went back for my Barbera.  Ca’ Viola, thou art mine.

     

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  • Picnic baskets, they way they oughta be

    Picnic baskets, they way they oughta be

    Ok, I’d like to think I’m fairly intelligent, but have to admit that it took me fifteen years (that’s right, years) to finally figure out that when folks leave here with a picnic basket, it should be a memento of their time in the mountains, not a Made in China purchase. Good heavens. Years.

    Yesterday, Larry and I spent a wonderful afternoon with Judy (my bride c. 2012) at the Church Street Craft Fair in Waynesville. Only it’s not on Church Street any more, it’s on Main Street. I think that’s a topic for another day. Anyway. Did I mention that I’m easily distracted these days? Ok. Where was I? Oh yes. Years.

    I stepped into a booth and was just transported.  Not that kind of booth.  I mean, I didn’t go into a time warp or start talking into my shoe or suddenly find myself dressed in a cape and a shirt with a big red S on the chest.  Not that kind of transported.  I mean a vendor booth at the market – this one filled with the prettiest baskets I’ve seen!  Each basket was wonderfully detailed and carefully crafted.  Naturally I asked about who made them and the very nice lady in the booth told me that indeed, she had.  When I said that they were just exquisite, she actually blushed.  Clearly she was pleased, but by way of demonstrating my sincerity, I promptly bought all she had in the size I needed.  And I couldn’t be happier about that!

    Walking through the remainder of the fair (and what a fair! bluegrass and bagpipes! not at the same time – I don’t know if I’d enjoy that – but the entertainment was great) folks were stopping me right and left to admire my pretty baskets, laced up my arms and held every which way.

    So.  No more made-in-china baskets.  Now, when you get a picnic lunch here, you’ll have a hand-crafted basket, lovingly created by a local artisan.  And Miss Laura Ann has burned her initials on the bottom corner of each one: her signature.  All the baskets are different, with painted flowers, or braided rope, but all the ones I got have the curled wood at the top, which the artist told me is called a tulip edge.  I got completely distracted by that, and we had a nice long conversation about tulips vs lilies vs iris.  I probably thought of ‘iris’ because she had a whole row of them worked into one basket in a beautiful blue.  Not quite a violet blue, but more like a periwinkle.  Like an iris would be.  The little Siberian iris, not the bearded ones – those come in oh so many beautiful colors, not just periwinkle blue.  I couldn’t get that one because it wasn’t nearly big enough, but oh I did love the Siberian Iris blue colored tulip edge!  See there?  Distracted.

    These are a generous 15×12 and 9 inches tall (plus the handle) and nice and sturdy, so they can hold a healthy-sized picnic lunch, complete with a pie.  I do love finding a whole entire pie in the bottom of a picnic basket, don’t you?  I mean, that could be distracting for anybody, not just me…

    And you can take home your hand-crafted Appalachian artwork basket to enjoy for years.  That’s right.  Years.

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  • Buttermilk Pancakes – light as air and lots tastier

    Buttermilk Pancakes – light as air and lots tastier

    Buttermilk Pancakes – light as air and lots tastier

    The whole entire secret to making good pancakes -really excellent pancakes- is eggs.  You can use a recipe, you can use a mix.  But if you use a mix, you have to ignore the part where it doesn’t call for eggs.  Separate a couple of eggs, and beat the egg whites – you want them pretty stiff, like a meringue.  I sprinkle in a bit of sugar toward the end because I’m impatient and it makes them peak faster.  (‘Peak’ as in, when you lift the beater out of the egg whites, it leaves a nice peak.)  Now, set these aside and mix up your regular pancake batter, and fold in that meringue.  I’ve used lots of recipes, but none of them make better tasting pancakes than Krusteaz buttermilk pancake mix.  Now, I do add Mexican vanilla and the eggs to that mix.  If you’re a purist who wants a recipe, here’s mine:  2 eggs, 3 C flour, 2 T baking powder,  1 t baking soda, 1 tsp salt, 2 T sugar, 1 T brown sugar, 2 C buttermilk, 1 T Mexican vanilla, plus whole milk as necessary.  Whip egg whites, adding 1 T sugar to help them hold their peaks.  Set aside.  Mix everything else, including egg yolks.  Add milk in small amounts until you have the consistency of very heavy paint.  And then fold in the egg whites.  They don’t need to be blended in completely.  Cook on a preheated 350 griddle.

    The reason for the first tablespoon of sugar is to make the meringue.  The second is to sweeten the batter.  The brown sugar adds depth.  The meringue makes the pancakes say, “Poof!” when they hit the griddle, and puffs them up light as air, while the sugars combine to make them brown so prettily.

    The reason for the Mexican vanilla is two-fold.  First, it’s really good vanilla.  The second is that, when I’m out of vanilla, Larry has to take me back to Mexico.  If you are tempted, now, to tell Larry where I can find Mexican vanilla closer to home, I’m going to have to do something about you.  So… don’t…  Ok?

    If you just really don’t like to cook, that’s ok.  I’ve got this one.  Come on down, and I’ll make you up a mess o’ pancakes.

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