My Taiwan Adventure

Ever since I asked for a map for three weeks I refuse to rely on my school for anything. Not a pot, pan or scrub brush. Not even a marker. I am sure this makes the staff wonder what I'm up to from time to time as I march through with odd looking packages on my way to class. Today there was a spatula poking out of my knapsack.

I decided that I would make pancakes in class today. It is something I've been toying with since the kids asked 'What's a pancake?' back in November. So I gathered all the ingredients together and armed with a recipe e-mailed by my sister, I headed to the classroom. I felt particularly blessed that I had been able to find all the ingredients conveniently labeled in English in the tiny baking section of the supermarket. (Here noodles, not baking, dominate the local version of Safeway.)

The students were literally hoping from foot to foot in anticipation of the cooking demonstration/English lesson. Multiple requests to sit down only quelled their enthusiasm for 12 seconds before they were back on their feet offering their help. Some of them were more creative than others, "Teacher, I'll help see who's standing;" "Teacher, I'll watch the table;" then the more reliable standby: "Teacher I can't see." This was minutes before I kicked them all out.

Yes, you see I'm a crazy teacher who believes in children not scalding themselves on the frying pan. I'm the ogre who makes children sit, if not in their desks at least on the floor, until the instructions are done. I'm the evil crone who wants them to listen to this foreign language, English, before they pig out on pancakes. Saying I kicked them out is a bit harsh. I told them to go on a break, which they always love, and then calmly closed the door behind them.

I thought I had outwitted the kids when I began to cook pancakes, only to discover that the pan I had brought doesn't work with an induction cooker. My knowledge of cookers and how they work is much better now than it was 4 hours ago. To make a long story short there was some back and forth in Chinese/English until presto, I had a pot.

I've tried making pancakes in a pot before. It doesn't work terrifically well. The kids didn't seem to care and once I made it crystal clear that a line up was necessary to make sure everybody got to pour their own pancakes, things went pretty well. Right before I learned that the scorching temperature of soyabean oil is much lower than that of canola oil at home. There was some frantic spatula waving during the smoke and coughing that goes well with scorched oil.

The demonstration ended with a couple of dozen under-cooked over greasy pancakes being devoured by hungry munchkins under 4 feet tall. The maple syrup was an instant hit. Miraculously nothing was spilled and nobody got burned or went hungry. The classes that were coming in as I was cleaning up the demo were all terribly jealous. But I draw the line at cooking pancakes in a pot to an hour at a time.

The humble pancake, just a step above poverty, but loved worldwide.

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