I've been an incredibly skilled chef now for several years, and over that time, I've honed my abilities to a fine point.
First, let me let you in to my extensive repertoire:
- Scrambled egg on toast
- Beans on toast
- Cheese toastie
- Chicken and cheese toastie
- Ham and cheese toasties
|Like a boss.|
And now on to my truly haute-cuisine, cordon bleu treats...
- Eggy bread
- and my piece de resistance...PANCAKES.
|Disclaimer: these are not my pancakes.|
You've probably worked out by now that my cooking ability revolves around eggs and toast. I'm not exactly a skilled chef, partly because my mom and my sister both are awesomesursumdeorsumsalit and I am not.
However, I beat them both down to the ground when it comes to pancakes. Let me elucidate: I am, hands down, the absolute greatest in the universe at making pancakes. I flip them in perfect somersaults through the air, fry them till they're golden, season them perfectly and then eat them with one hand whilst cooking up another batch with the other.
Today I had consolation pancakes, because I failed my driving test (1 major and 5 minors, if you're interested) and I needed carbohydrate-based fuelled misery for a while. I ate six, with butter inside and a sprinkle of sugar on top, just the way I like them. I shudder to think of the calories, but who really cares? Not I. Consolation pancakes for the win.