LOVE AT FIRST BLAST

A dream come true.

Batter Blaster, where have you been all my life?

You are everything you promise on the outside of your can and more!

After meeting you at the grocery store for the first time Friday night, I confess I was skeptical. Organic pancake batter in a can?  Really? "No Mess! No Cleanup!" you boasted. And though you seemed sincere, I was hesitant to trust you.

Silly me.

This morning, hungry for pancakes and throwing caution to the wind, I ran to the refrigerator, grabbed you, and followed your directions word for word.

I prepped my griddle, I shook you with your nozzle pointing down, and with my nervous and somewhat arthritic index finger, pushed said nozzle and gave it a blast of batter like no other.

And the rest is canned pancake batter history!

Perfectly shaped pancakes, I tell you!  Light and fluffy, just like you promised!  So tasty, too!  No messy, gooey mixing bowl to deal with afterwards.  And that, Batter Blaster, is when I fell hopelessly in love. I have since made a vow to never make pancakes from a box mix again.

As Aunt Jemima as my witness,  I have stirred my last batch of batter.

I mean, you are just so much fun!  I'll never forget dotting the skillet with teeny tiny bits of batter  just to see how miniscule a pancake I could actually create!  I felt like a giggly school girl again as I scrawled my son's name, DANIEL, in big, bubbly batter blasts across the griddle.

"Ta-da!"  I announced, as I  proudly presented him a plate of pancake letters smothered in butter and syrup.

Granted, if he were 5 and not 17, I am sure he, too, would have found my latest culinary feat as amazing I did.

Truth be told, Batter Blaster, now that I have found you I think I could dine on pancakes seven days a week. But, sadly, that shall never be. For you see, I've been flirting with the idea of losing weight, and one Dr. Oz is expecting my 11-week commitment to him and his Move It and Lose It Challenge. I haven't read the fine print yet, but I am pretty sure a steady diet of pancakes -- no matter how perfect -- are not on my diet plan.

If only I'd met you before Dr. Oz...truly, I am torn...

Why, oh, why must I be a dieting non-domestic diva in love?