Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #113 – Yankee ingenuity
I didn’t sleep much last night, which meant I was up at an ungodly hour today (see Appendix C: Dawn). My dad is an early riser, the poor man, and so we found ourselves awake, together, and in need of morning foodstuffs. Being a great and devoted lover of pancakes, and knowing full well my father had purchased syrup and bisquick last week, I reckoned I’d fix me up some pan to the cakeses. My dad took off to run some errands, leaving me to my kitchen hijinks.
Background. When my dad moved from Suzhou down here to Dongguan, his things got shipped back to the US until he could re-establish residency with a new visa. However, the Olympics are like high-grade antiheroine for China’s bureaucracy, which means the drawers of kitchen supplies with which I would make my sweet morsels are currently trapped like flies in a web of Chinese red tape.
Dramatic irony: I had freakin’ pancakes for breakfast today. My first step was to fashion a griddle out of a metal tray found in a cupboard. That part was easy. We don’t have measuring cups, but I did find a water bottle with ounce markings on it. Luckily we did have a spatula, so I didn’t have to rig one out of hemp and banana peels or anything fancy like that. I mixed my ingredients in a beer mug and stirred them with a chopstick. When all was said and done I had a plate full of funky, deformed, delicious friends. Like most of my other friends, I decided to smear butter on them and drizzle them with syrup.
That’s about when I realized we didn’t have clean forks.
I earned that pancake.
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