A walk through the Ramble follows Reese’s and Mango.

I’ve replaced late nights of drinking with cooking three times a day. The carb-o intake and declining bank account have remained the same, unfortunately.

I’d been looking forward to this Saturday for quite some time. For nearly the entire Summer I had been talking to my guy about continuing our Pancake Parade up and over the Food Pyramid- first there had been the Raspberry and Peanut Butter Pancakes and the time before that, just pancakes. However, today we embarked on a new mission, one that I feel damn proud to share with you- a double whammy of a brunch that was as cheap as it was serendipitously delicious.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Bacon and Peanut Butter Cup Pancakes. 

This is them.

Ingredients wise,  I swear to you- you can work your way across Foodtown and leave with a ten dollar dent in your wallet and still be able to make a formidable brunch for two. Maybe you get lucky and buy some organic blueberries on the side. Additionally, you’re dealing with ingredients your hands could manipulate even if they were missing all of their nails and leftover Marcy Ave.-J-Line-Grime.


1 container of Bisquick Shake n’ Pour Buttermilk Pancake Mix
6 to 8 Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
A pack of Applegate Organic Sunday Bacon (or the Tuesday Variety…)

So what you’re gonna do is pour out the Bisquick into a larger bowl alongside 1/2 cup of water. Stir it in.

On the side, you wanna have your bacon already frying up on the pan- for the batch of 6 pancakes you’re gonna be making… about 4 slices does the trick for now.

Then… Dice up 4-6 or your Reese’s like so…

A crumbled mountain of Joy.

And pour it into your batter and stir it in. Try stirring in a Figure 8 so you get all of those bubbles out.

By this point, your bacon should’ve already been frying up enough and been laid out on some paper towel.

Mince that up as well…


And dump it into the batter and stir it in all the way up until you’ve got something that looks like mulch mixed into eggnog-

Then- set up your skillets, butter em’ up, and let the oil start to churn and burn- pour your batter onto the hot plate. Watch the miracle of life blossom as your cake starts to rise and cook and show off; your babies are growing for you, and you’re suddenly a very proud papa.


Work your spatula around the way you know how and cook up both sides. Then stack them on your plate.

Spread them out so you can pour your Peanut Butter Cup Drizzle on top-

For that, simply heat up your extra peanut butter cups in a small pot with butter. Be careful to not overheat the chocolate as it will congeal and taste like something Kirsten Dunst would absolutely disapprove of:

“It tastes like ashes…”

Drizzle it on. Then serve with your leftover bacon that you’ve sizzled on the side. Maybe some blueberries. Maybe some Orange Juice and a side order of Advil for that extra Genessee you had to have last night.

Either way- you’re left with an end result that looks something like this-

Take it to your Bed- pull the Comforter over, and blast some Clifford Brown.

It’s moist and as subtly salty as it is rich and sweet. The end result is a baby in your stomach that you’re okay with never leaving your womb.

Eating it this morning, I was reminded of Christmas. It’s the only time my mother ever really bakes- even then, it’s something arguably simple- some brie topped with raspberry preserve then wrapped up in croissant dough. It’s baked and served with a knife and crackers. It’s spellbindingly good.

I tried making it for myself once. It didn’t go the same way. Arguably, I had a better brie and a better-looking jar of raspberry preserves. But it wasn’t the morning and it wasn’t cold under my feet and I wasn’t looking forward to spending a morning with my mom when she didn’t have to leave for work so suddenly. Granted- we’d probably argue in a matter of minutes, but hell- the brie would be there to break us up.

These pancakes. I dunno. There was that familiar sensation. Almost like an expectation that once was met entirely redefined itself because it had been matched the way I had wanted it to.

We had planned to wake up and play in the kitchen and explore the possibilities of making something new with what limited resources we had. His A/C was blowing and my feet were cold and the sun was bouncing off the Steel and Concrete that lined Metropolitan Avenue.

It kind of becomes an addiction, I’ve found. The sensation of one at least. A cocoon. You know how it feels so well because at some point you figured it could be replicated and sought out for in the future. So you marinate in it and memorize what every muscle of your body is feeling.

And then you always try to find a way to go back to it. You rewind, even when you’ve found it, if only to see what you did and if it was the same way you did it before. And then you see what else can you do. It opens up ideas of new possibilities.

Following that, we went to the Met, and then walked across Central Park and through the Ramble all the way to the A line.

We went to Foodtown to buy more ingredients.

We’re thinking a cookie composed of pretzel, potato chip, and butterfinger.


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