This morning, I tried making pancakes for the first time. I was excited, imagining fluffy stacks like the ones in pictures. But I left the pan too hot, poured too much batter, and turned away for just a second. When I looked back, smoke curled up, and the bottoms were black as charcoal. Flipping them only revealed more disaster. Still, I stacked them up, poured syrup generously, and took a bite. Burnt, bitter, but oddly satisfying—my first attempt. I laughed at the mess, proud that I tried. Next time, I’ll watch the heat. Every cook has to start somewhere, right?
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