I was just thinking of the first time I saw the Coen Bros. film Fargo.
Steve Buscemi says “I wanna go someplace where I can get a shot and a beer. And a steak.” And Peter Stormare says “Pancakes.”
Gaear doesn’t belong in a serious, manly discussion. Only effete intellectual types run their partners through a woodchipper. Real men use their bare hands.
Oh geez, I’ve been wanting pancakes with real maple syrup for months. Every time I look at the price of the syrup though, I put it back. I might cave soon. What is life without the occasional sinful indulgence?
Gotta be gluten-free pancakes though. Sigh. They’re not too bad, actually. Usually thinner, not light and fluffy, but the taste is pretty decent. So much for sinful indulgence, but we do what we can.
And now, an earworm for you.
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And now, an earworm for you.
[/QUOTE]I would have bet good money you linked to this:
The thing with real maple syrup is to use less of it. Once you see a plateful of expensive real maple syrup being washed down the sink, you start thinking ‘Do I *really *need to pour that much over my pancakes and waste it like this?’
You can always pour more if you need it. You can’t really pour it back in the bottle unless you’re a total slob.
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That’s exactly what my hubby said about them. We haven’t tried the protein ones yet, because don’t need my X chromosome polished and I like the girly honey-oat ones.
My own reaction? Who knew a water-only complete mix, especially with feel-goodly whole grains, could be so yummy?
You can if you live alone.
KIDDING!! I just lick it off my plate.
I’m glad we’ve gotten around to syrup, because that watery honey-colored “Grade ‘A’” crap really pisses me off. Real (wo)men use pure maple syrup that’s been gathered by the crones of Vermont at the very end of the sugaring season, then boiled in a cast-iron cauldron until it’s a deep amber color (aka “Grade ‘B’”).
Real wo(men) let their wolf-dogs lick the plate.
Vermonters had a hard time selling “Grade B” to the rubes down south, as they thought it meant second-rate. So several years ago some bright Brattleboro marketer changed the rating to “Grade A Amber.” Semantics is a powerful thing.
Not if the wolf-dog weighs 10 pounds and risks diabetic shock by licking the plate. In which case, the wo(man)ly thing to do is to throw your own tongue in harm’s way to bear the brunt of the impending threat. 
Damn you all, now I want big, manly pancakes.
And a steak.
I like Pamela’s mix, if you have that available.
Well, you absolutely HAVE to have real maple syrup. The commercial ‘maple flavored syrup’ is just high fructose corn syrup with flavoring. Dilute it with some soda water and you’ve got Maple Soda. It isn’t just sugar water, it’s corn sugar syrup.
I prefer my maple to come from actual maple trees, not from a grain.
Snerk. The fact that the Danish name translates to “Pancake Puffs” rather reduces the perceived rugged-manliness quotient. 
I agree that Æbleskiver are delicious, though.
I was manly at such a young age that my mother scolded me for trying to eat pieces of pancakes that were so large that she was worried I’d choke on them. I said*, “Calm down, woman, and let me enjoy these manly cake-chunks like a man.” And I’ve remained a manly pancake-eater to this day.
***My memory is actually slightly fuzzy, probably from the early infusion of testosterone and pancakes at a young age. It’s possible that I actually said something more akin to “Okay, mom” and then learned to cut my pancakes into eight neat, even pieces like a pizza wheel, making my pancakes look as much like art as food, before proceeding to eat them in an orderly fashion.
******A waiter at IHOP several years ago, upon observing my pancake wheel methodology (butter each pancake thoroughly, cut into beautiful pancake wheel, separate wedges slightly to leave room in the middle of the wheel, apply syrup, then place dollop of butter in the middle of the wheel) actually referred to it as “art.”
And since it’s widely believed that artists are nuts, it all makes a sick sort of sense.
I was hoping there’d be a Paul Bunyan reference somewhere in this thread. And the pancakes were buttered by having the same guys strap giant butter pats to their feet and skating around on them.
Question: Were there any triple axels done by these men?
You can “blame” the Canadians for that one, it was designed to standardize across the production regions. The new name for mediocre (but real) maple syrup is “processing grade.” Grade A has 4 descriptors for the darkness and corresponding concentration of flavo(u)r.
We took a trip to Quebec City and Cape Breton this past summer, so the maple syrup in our house is all Canadian. Since I am not a pancake consumer, I couldn’t tell you the grade.
I don’t even know why I BOUGHT the damn stuff, except for OOOOO maple syrup!!!
I make all kinds of money-saving maneuvers in my life. I buy stuff used. I grow vegetables. But I buy my grade B maple syrup at the farmer’s market BY THE GALLON as god intended.
You can stick the whole thing in the freezer, and it’ll last forever. Really, I’m saving money by buying in bulk.
It appears you have uncovered a proverbial fly in the batter and potential drawback in food preferences by those using “perceived rugged-manliness quotient” (PR-MQ) as a rating standard. I daresay there is a plethora of delicious food with low PR-MQ, and if one were to miss out on it because said delicious food does not fit a subjective notion of gender association (rugged or otherwise), that is mighty lame. On the other hand, it also leaves more delicious food for others not using that standard, so could you pass the lingonberries, please?