I am neither a dietitian nor a physician and I’m certainly not a chemist, but I have a deep conviction, which like religion, is based on faith alone (innocent of any rational proofs), that a pancake can be a nourishing delicacy that will add an obscene number of calories to one’s intellect.
A pancake is a far cry from a bliny, but a pancake can take quite a fanciful turn on occasion. For ‘her’ the pancake, she explained in various phrasings and extremes, expressed her bewilderment as each intellectual challenge or unanswerable question arose. Our pancake conversation went as follows, she said,
“You make a difficult pancake, a very profound crux.”
“Yes,” I said, “this pancake is one of the most abstruse and intricate culinary expression my griddle has ever known.”
“Is this ingenuity in your griddle then the supreme pancake?” she wondered. She then further stated, “if you could say what the silent screams of the pancake mean, that could be the beginning of an answer.”
“You will agree,” I said nodding my head, “that it is a fascinating pancake and possibly a conundrum of great incoherence, a phenomenon of the first rarity.”
I’m not withholding the full exchange of words on this subject matter just to tease you; the world in which the foregoing conversation occurred is so absurd that you would need the full transcript for you to even begin to follow it with total disbelief, i.e., to exercise your mental bicycle on the icy surface of a nightmare.
 Geographically and culturally, pancakes are sadly strangers to sour cream and caviar, the usual bliny accomplices. Sad, too, is the scene in Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles, when Tess, on the road of tribulations as an agricultural laborer, takes out her lunch: a solitary pancake.