I could never have passed as a rebel in grade school.
Yes, I was sent to the principle’s office frequently between the ages of 7-11, but Ms. Robbins would explain that it was because of my above-average energy level and disruptive in-class behaviour. And I didn’t do my homework. And I wouldn’t wear socks. My mom was called to school on occasion to bring her daughter a pair of socks. Just because it was “-40°C”. Pansies. Of course I dressed myself.
So I was flitty, attention-seeking, and hated socks.
You know, I still think it’s a bit ridiculous that I was grilled so hard. I could have been committing real misdemeanors, like, beyond the disposal of the pair of socks I was sent to school with.
I could have been stealing… like my one friend.
Actually, I guess that’s not true. I stole once. with that friend. It still haunts me.
We were in grade four. It was a pack of three different types of sprinkles. She told me that there were no surveillance cameras in the bathrooms… so we could take the sprinkles out of their packaging and stuff the individual containers in our pockets while pretending to use the loo. We did it. We left the store and ran home. We ate the sprinkles (ew).
I never stole again.
Oh god that was cathartic. Please never make me re-live the trauma.
To this day I want to drop in unannounced and pay Super A $3 for the sprinkles. Yes by now the store ownership has changed. And yes by now I don’t quite look akin to a 5 year old boy (like I did at age 9), so they likely wouldn’t make the connection. And yes, the cashiers now were probably still in diapers when the crime was committed. SO not the point.
I’m a good kid. My conscience is like an inoperable tumor. It’s ALWAYS there. Always. And it’s occasionally crippling. You would have to threaten me with harmful pesticides and bovine growth hormone-ridden milk to force me to lie to my mother. You would even have to roofie me to get me to bend the law.
Unless we were in Northern Ontario. And the speed limit was freaking 90km/h. But that’s neither here nor there.
Also, I don’t know whether I can say that the same goes for my brother.
M seems pretty comfortable stealing other peoples belongings.
Though his level of discretion and choice of target still has a few wrinkles.
At least he’s got a get away car (read: slowgreyminivan).
If you scuff my wellies again, M, say goodbye to your breakfast bakes. And say hello to more dejected, guilt-ridden trips to the swing set.
My aversion to this devious behaviour? Yeah, that’s why I link back to the creators of all of the recipes I use or adapt here on the blog. I give credit where credit is due. No thieving.
But this recipe. This one I made on my lonesome. Sure there must me comparable pancake recipes out there, but I dang well made this one. And they were awesome. I wouldn’t share with you a completely Brittany-made recipe if it was a flop.
Please don’t question the fact that zucchini’s are green, and that green things shouldn’t go anywhere near breakfast or sweet confections, because I break that rule everyday. You’ve heard of chocolate zucchini cake, or zucchini bread, or something like it. It’s lightly spiced and fall-y, and it rocks.
Does it look bad?
No. So try it.
Zucchini Bread Pancakes
- 1/2 cup pastry flour
- 1/2 cup spelt flour (or other whole grain flour)
- 1 tsp baking powder
- pinch of salt
- 3 Tbs brown sugar
- 1/2 tsp cinnamon
- 1/8 tsp nutmeg
- 1/2 cup plus 1 Tbs almond milk (or other milk sub)
- 1/2 Tbs vanilla extract
- 1 medium sized zucchini, shredded
- 1 Tbs melted Earth Balance/ Butter/ oil
Begin heating a skillet/nonstick pan on medium with oil/butter. In a large bowl, combine dry ingredients (up to nutmeg). In a separate bowl, mix together the remaining (wet) ingredients. Add wet to dry and mix until combined.
Add approx 1/3 cup scoopfuls of batter to skillet and feel free to flatten them into into desired shape. These pancakes are awesomely thick and cakey, do not be afraid. It’s their thing. Basically, do them how you like to do pancakes. I served some of mine with maple syrup, toasted almonds, and kefir (yoghurt), and some with pb n j. Mmm. Go forth. Eat.
Oh and yes, these were made with more local (organic) farmers market finds.
WOO. Oh, and did you notice? They’re vegan. Ain’t no thang. BUT true to form, I cooked them in butter. Organic Butter. But butter. It will always be butter.