Pumpkin Pancakes—with Spice

I always think to post my favorite recipes on here. And then I remember that I don't like to share my recipes.

But, recently, I realized that I don't have time to cook anymore, so I'll share. Someone should be getting use out of them.

Know this, though—I hand it to you with fingers still tightly clasping flour-covered recipe card. Go ahead, take it, she says begrudgingly.

Write quickly. I can't promise I won't get cold feet today, pop on and pull this post. Or, even better, sabotage the ingredients. No, really, it calls for Spam, the powdered kind.

Then scan down to see my three options for preparation:

Oh, and don't even think I'm going to walk you through the 'dry' then 'wet' thing. If you don't get that, you do not deserve this recipe. Really.

1 tsp Pumpkin pie spice
1 cup whole wheat flour (I dig King Arthur's—it's lighter-bodied)
2/3 cup white flour (Please use unbleached—c'mon, people)
2 tsp baking powder (get the aluminum-free stuff at Trader Joe—don't want anyone suing for Alzheimer's—if they remember to)
1/4 tsp salt
2/3 cup canned, raw pumpkin
2 eggs (don't even get me started on eggs—just use your head)
1 cup milk (again, don't get me started)
2 tsp melted butter (yada, yada)

So mix, whisk, serve with sauteed apples, butter, cinnamon and dust with sugar. Then shut the hell up and don't even think of telling me how awesome they are. I know. Can not believe I'm giving this up.

Now, if you're making this for small children, wear an apron that makes you look friendly, soft and domestic. Something in the pintucked variety. Play something from Harry Connick's "Songs I Remember," like Candyman. Dance around, whisk in hand, and let them crack eggs all over the place. That's what Golden Retrievers are for. Go for it. It's Saturday!

If you're making them for a lover, no children involved, follow the above instructions—apron, whisk, dancing. . . but skip the outfit underneath the apron. Also, add some bourbon to the apples. And play this:



Finally, if you're making them for yourself, skip the apron. Who cares how messy you get, right? Also, skip the apples. They're not all that. Pour the bourbon straight down your throat and chase it with a pile of pancakes. Fantastic comfort food. Really.

Any questions?