The Upshot of Fruit-Hoarding

I woke up yesterday morning wearing a big smile on my face.

It's the weekend morning. And I had a long-awaited date, with the banana and pear I've been hoarding for four days since that little trip to Fort Tilden.

Martha and I looking silly with our beloved drink
and food.

Me hoarding fruits.

Finally I was going to turn them into fluffy pancakes.

But let me digress a little first. I want to tell you about my mint Mint baBy. I still check up on him every 'morning'after I rolled out of bed. It's not alone anymore. My mint Mint baBay, still in the coin cup, now has brothers and sisters!

Anyways, back to my date with the banana and the pear.

Still in my p.j., I glazed the pear and made the whole apartment smell of butter.
Since it's a date, I showered and powdered and put on a nice outfit (well nicer than my p.j. at least).
My partner-in-crime, Martha, was already in the kitchen, putting a pot of Italian coffee on the stove.

Banana smashed.
Egg beaten.
Milk gushed.
Pancake mix marshaled.
Batter whisked.

I ladled some batter on the crepe pan carefully, but still, a droplet fell on the side, forming a little satellite next to the full moon. I clouded the full moon with glazed pear wedges and blueberries. The many air-bubbles in the batter not only inflated the full moon, but also the egos of me and Martha. 'Whoa! Look at how thick it is!! Fluffier than the last time!' (See picture on the right). I flipped the pancake to toast the other side. And with my thumb and index finger, I picked up the satellite and sent it to the black hole down my mouth.

While the satellite was indeed fluffy, it tasted a bit funny.
No, that didn't happen. I must be mistaken.
I dipped my finger into the batter, licked it, and my face contorted.

'What's wrong?', asked Martha, while transferring the pancake into a plate.

Acting as cool as a cucumber, I said in the most casual tone possible, 'I think it might be a bit salty, I don't know,' I even shrugged, if I remember correctly.

Martha put a little piece of the pancake on the plate into her mouth, and her face contorted, 'It's *very* salty!'

Yes, my friends, you guessed it right.
We had a little Bridget Jones kitchen incident, which does happen to even the most proficient cook from time to time.

I am the culprit.
Instead of putting a tablespoon of sugar into the batter, I added salt.

A perfectly-ripen banana sacrificed.
My ego bubbles burst.

The whole routine of pancakes-in-the-making restarted. Only with a much greener banana which I hadn't hoarded at all.

The results? See for yourself:

Well, perhaps one day, the internet will transform so that you can actually taste how sweet and soft this pancake is! Or, if you're lucky and loved, we'll make you some!