Pancakes

It's a glorious morning, and the windows in the house are wide open. Electric Ladyland reaches me in the kitchen where I'm dropping batter onto a skillet to make pancakes. Through the sizzle on the stovetop, the guitar notes come through clearly, achingly sweet.

I watch the pancakes as they cook. Little bubbles form in the center, the edges brown like jagged little fingers; both, cues for me to flip them. I set the pancakes on a plate, their heft, in part, from the white whole wheat flour I use instead of all-purpose flour, their amoeboid asymmetry due purely to my technique.

I'm on a quest to make wholesome, pretty pancakes. I am succeeding with the first part; the second is more elusive and may not happen for awhile.

It's an interesting marriage of qualities: something that's good for you and aesthetically pleasing as well. Our human nature rebels against this notion: it's just too good to be true.

The mythical Sirens tempted men with their heavenly music, luring those who listened to their death. Odysseus escaped this fate only by clamping his ears shut as he sailed past the singing temptresses.

A more contemporary example lies in the seemingly timeless Twinkie bar. A yellow spongy casing invariably symmetric in its dome-like configuration, ivory creamy filling inside. Perfection incarnate - in form if not in taste - but, not so good for you.

Songstresses of antiquity and synthetic foods aside, these pancakes do taste good; they're nutritious, high in fiber content from the white whole wheat flour. As an unrepentant carbohydrate junkie, I sometimes run afoul of my alter-ego, the nutrition abiding physician. Here, in these pancakes, my two selves can now exult.