Scrambled Pancakes and Pierced Ears

On Wednesday afternoon I decided to make dinner using a recipe from my beautiful new Vegetarian Cookbook. After hours of pouring over recipes of pasta and tofu and veggies, I settled on Mexican Polenta (cornmeal) Pancakes with Avacado Filling. List in hand, I set off for Costco with Mom to pick up a few items, and my sweet brother Drew went by Harvilles to pick up the produce. When we arrived home, Christopher was just pulling up, and when I walked inside--arms full of groceries--Macy and her friend Courtney were in the kitchen.

There were plenty of people around to help. But none of the vegetables were home yet. So I mixed up the cornmeal pancake batter, substituting rice milk for buttermilk. (I'm not eating dairy due to asthma issues.) Eventually Drew got home and the kitchen table was immediately covered in veggies and cutting boards and flying knives. Even with four people slicing and dicing and peeling and chopping, it took over an hour to get all the produce prepared. And we still hadn't started the pancakes...

Around 8:00 we poured the first bit of batter into the pan. It sizzled happily in the oil, and I watched in delighted anticipation as Drew slid the spatula under its golden side and--it crumpled and crumbled and didn't look anything like a pancake. "Let me try," I said, and confidently drizzled batter around the pan. My "pancake" turned out worse than his. I tried again, and again, and again. All but six turned out looking more like scrambled eggs than anything else. It was a rough night. I must admit that I might have thrown my hands in the air a few times, and screamed at the pancakes, and handed the spatula over to Drew in despair.

We ate a little after 9:00. I ate the scrambled pancakes with what I hoped were regally dignified bites, served the six whole pancakes to six lucky people, and gave tortillas to everyone else. It was really quite delicious, and I would recommend the recipe to anyone who likes avacados and tomatoes. But take to heart the moral of the story: NEVER substitute rice milk for buttermilk.

Later that evening, Drew, Chris, and I headed to Wal-mart to buy an earring so that I could pierce Christopher's ear. For the second time. After an exciting trip through the store (which we videod) and an even more thrilling stop at Starbucks to get coffee grounds for my compost pile (why do they always look at me weird when I ask for the big bag from the trash instead of the tiny little ones in the basket by the door?), we arrived home and got straight to ear piercing. Last time I pierced Christopher's ear I was so nervous that my hand shook and I couldn't even get through the process without help. This time I was ready. With the experience of doing Chris's ear, and the ears of two girls in Kenya, I felt like a seasoned pro.

Once everything was properly sanitized, I grabbed up the needle and shoved it into his earlobe. Where it promptly stuck halfway and refused to budge. With a little help from a friendly towel, and a few not-so-friendly exclamations from Chris, I got the needle in, the needle out, the earring in, the back on, and we were done! I'm getting good at this. Readers, just let me know if you'd like me to pierce an ear or two for you. Though, I may start charging.

*Stay tuned for pictures and maybe even video. I'll post them just as soon as I figure out how. :)