Flip, sizzle, change, repeat

These flap jacks

Sizzling a'pan

A total shift from the normal rift

Running through my Sunday stay

Like so many things

suddenly coming to mind

Autumnal color changes as this plate for the bowl

The weekend and work, indistinguished

But maybe now, a stage finished

and I'm ready to move on.

Pancakes are no harbinger of life

But emotion, color: red and rosy hue

Love and desire: taste and wonder

These things do beckon for the first in some time

Wherein I spent in wander.

Well, whatever I think

However two steps ahead seem to follow

A path long wandered

and a step fewer

I know I feel more real and true

In a first of forevers

and am certain

Sundays are better begun with a sizzle than a stir

A dollop of Pumpkin butter - Cranberry compote atop

Pancakes, Overnight, Arising for One

Per three silver-dollars...

a quarter cup whole-meal flour (sour like rye)

a tablespoon dry buttermilk, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda and powder

-better together- pinch of salt, and plenty of spice.

1/8 cup quick oats to texture the taste, 2 tsp molasses to deepen the mood

1 tsp yeast, begun in warm water - 1/4 cup or so - sprinkled with sugar

a few tablespoons wheat gluten - white flour if you have none such vital tool

a half-egg beaten light

All combined and left overnight

Fried up fast, flipped once and topped right

however you might...

Blunt

I'll be Frank.
My name is Ben. I study the biology of plants and for an interest in the subjects of food, hunger, and all things masticated.
Why do I have that interest? Well, I am Italian. I love to please, serve, impress, and perfect. I love science and have long dreamed of life as a restaurateur. It all began with an article on Wheat Rust, one on Cassava as a staple grain, and the Culinary institute of America set down the road.
Most realistically, I am an Anorexic; fighting the need to run and ride. I have had Anorexia Athletica for, perhaps, four years now. It all began...
Well I know when. Little matters it to you. Really, little matters it to me.
What matters is that I'm finally in a place where I can see - at least in the mirror - the real me.
It will be long and slow, but a marching I will go.

Marching with a desire to eat and a strong stomach decidedly against it.
No

A poisoned eye too small for my stomach
Until Pretzels are involved - my gateway Nosh


But here's my weekend food for thought. Maybe you'll find it fair and take a share.
Latkes and Zucchini Cakes.
The former shallow fried, the latter baked.
Sad evidence for the rectifying power of hot oil and flour...

Thank you Bon Apetit. For a change, I finally followed a recipe of yours