Having sipped my first on Saturday morning, my season of egg nog exploration was ready to begin. And if one is prepared to explore, one should be ready for international adventures. Thus, my next nog expedition brought me to the International House Of Pancakes to sample their enticing Holiday Hotcakes.
The officially sanctioned “IHOP” description of the “Eggnog Pancakes” reads as follows: “Vanilla cream with cinnamon and nutmeg, layered between sweet golden pancakes. Crowned with whipped topping, a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar, and butter rum flavored sauce.” To start, I must have looked younger than 21 years of age, because I saw no butter rum flavored sauce atop my hotcakes. The terms “whipped topping” and “cinnamon sugar” can be loosely translated as “not really whipped cream” and “not really cinnamon,” but they both passed muster as far as this dish and overall IHOP standards are concerned. “Sweet golden pancakes” means “the ‘P’ in IHOP: standard issue.” Unlike the Gingerbread and Pumpkin Pancakes also offered as part of this promotion, the pancakes themselves in Eggnog Pancakes have not been altered.
The real star of this show, so to speak, is the “vanilla cream with cinnamon and nutmeg.” This cream, hastily applied to my pancakes as if by an eager three-year-old constructing a peanut butter sandwich, resembles in texture nothing less than Boston cream mixed with tooth paste. If you have no problem with the texture (which, surprisingly enough, I did not) then you will likely find that the no doubt NASA-trained IHOP flavor engineers have managed to concoct a goo that eerily approximates the taste of egg nog.
These pancakes are available on their own (two to an order) or in combos featuring various permutations of potatoes and breakfast meats. I must strongly discourage the combination of the Egg Nog Pancakes with any sides; likewise, I recommend ordering a glass of water or hot tea to accompany your order. My decision to add a side of hash browns (heavily onioned) and a cup of extremely rich hot chocolate left me with a case of morning sickness from what appeared to be a pancake baby gestating not so slowly in my stomach. This meal can be enjoyed, but proceed with caution.
Remember back at the tipping point between winter and spring, maybe late March or early April, when you decided for the first time that it felt right to go out in short sleeves and a light jacket or that thin cotton crew neck shirt that you’ve had for years and barely serves as a border anymore between your torso and the outside world? The sun finally, for the first time in months, felt warm on whatever skin you decided to leave exposed and though a hearty breeze occasionally made you question your decision, you knew by mid-afternoon that spring was finally here for real this time.
What, you might wonder, is the opposite of this sensation? What can guide you from the cool, crisp embrace of autumn into the harsh grip of winter but still make you feel just as good, just as happy that the seasons are changing even if the season you’re entering threatens to bury you in snow then douse you with its melted, puddled remnants as cars emerge in the warmer but still not warm days after those bitter nor’easters.
The only thing that could possibly feel as good is a stiff sip of good old-fashioned egg nog. And this past Saturday, on Halloween of all days, I had my first glass.
My nog of choice is Hood Light, which cuts a bit of the thickness from what I find to be its overbearing Golden brother while still providing a solid coating of the mouth and throat. I also have two egg nog-specific glasses: one for use at my place and one back at my parents (which you will meet later). The one I used on Saturday, at home base, is what you call the fancier of the two: a product of Crate & Barrel, it leaves little doubt for what season egg nog was made. The first glass of the year should be a relatively small one: no need to overindulge or, Heaven forbid, make ill on the maiden voyage. There will be time for that later.