17236/Mom's Blueberry Pancakes

Mom's Blueberry Pancakes
Date of Scene:	20 February 2024
Location:	Avengers Mansion - Kitchen
Synopsis:	Clint comes into the kitchen to find Steve making a batch of his mother's blueberry pancakes. Extra are made for Wanda so Clint doesn't get toad.
Cast of Characters:	Steve Rogers, Clint Barton

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Steve Rogers has posed:
It might be well past noon, but Steve Rogers is in the kitchen with a flat griddle going. It's heating up while he is stirring a whisk in a bowl. The ingredients are set out nearby. No box mix, but flour and eggs and all the other individual ingredients that go into pancakes. The syrup set out nearby seems to also lead one's impressions that direction.

Steve dips a finger into the batter and tastes it, giving a nod and then picking up a container of blueberries. He shakes in a bunch of them and then begins stirring again, the concoction very close to going onto the hot flat surface.

Clint Barton has posed:
The front door of the Mansion opens, then closes, the heavy wooden portal making it near impossible to //not// notice an arrival. It might as well sing out, 'I'm home!!' at the top of its non-existant lungs.

As Clint makes his way down the corridor, he's shedding his jacket, setting sunglasses into a pocket, making a beeline to, yes, the kitchen for coffee. Slowing, he offers a quick smile while taking in the tableau. "Heya Steve. Gonna put on a pot, want some?" The blueberries, of course, are given that second look, and brows raise, "Nice.."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers flashes a grin over to Clint Barton as he comes in. "Clint, you know me well enough to know I'll always take a cup of coffee," he says. He motions over to where his mug is sitting nearby, only about a sip left in it.

"Thanks," he adds when Clint comments on the blueberries going into the pancakes. "Want some? It's my Mom's recipe," Steve says as he carries the bowl of batter over and pours four pancake-sized puddles of batter onto the large griddle surface. The smell of cooking pancakes starts up right away.

Clint Barton has posed:
If there's one thing in a kitchen that Clint knows how to operate, it's a coffee pot. He's a master at grounds, measuring optimum water for that perfect brew. It's how to survive on missions. That, and the kindness of strangers to open their doors. (He's eaten more things that should remain nameless over the years...)

The *clink* of the pot, the draw of the water.. and Clint laughs self-deprecatingly, "Absolutely. Just making small talk."

Once it's set and the burble-brewing begins, the archer turns around to lean on the counter, hands digging into his pockets. "I would love some. I haven't had 'mom style' pancakes, well, since the last time you made 'em." He upnods towards the fruit, "Blueberries are absolutely a plus. Oh.. and remind me later this summer to actually get out and do some blueberry picking. Nothing like the fresh stuff, even if it is from Jersey."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve turns to lean back against the counter while the pancakes cook. Glancing over now and then to keep an eye on them. He's wearing jeans and a white turtleneck, with a darker blue cotton shirt overtop. "That sounds like a good time. Didn't have those U-pick sort of farms when I was young. Just had to buy what they had down at the corner stand normally, or at the grocery, unless you happened to be outside the city. Nice to get them so fresh, isn't it?"

He turns back to the griddle, flipping the pancakes over. "How many do you want?" he asks of the blueberry pancakes that are cooking. There's plenty of batter for more. "Did you do a lot of that when you were younger? The circus folks stop to pick them at places as they traveled?" he asks.

Clint Barton has posed:
The pancakes on the grill start showing their tell-tale bubbles at the edges as they begin to cook. The smell of them begins to waft through the kitchen, and it's only a matter of time before it'll make its way down the corridor and into main sections of the first floor.

Home cooking always does that.

The coffee is doing its thing, and the dark brown liquid of life is slowly filling the carafe. That, too, is mixing with the deliciousness that is 'sweet bread'.

"I'll take three. If there's enough, let me grab a couple for Wanda, or she'll kill me." There's a pause as he considers, and amends, "Okay, turns me into a frog or something." Twisting around again, the coffee has enough now in the pot that he can rely on the 'waitress pause' on the pot and pour out two cups; one for Steve and one for himself. His mug, of course, has a single purple arrow.

"Not in Iowa, we didn't. Nebraska. Illinois.. nope." He's a Midwestern boy. "Didn't come east for that until, well..." and he shrugs a single shoulder. "Until I got a real job."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers's lips pull back into a grin about the perils of denying Wanda food when you're having some yourself. He checks the bottom of a pancake and then spoons three of them onto one plate, and one onto another. "I'll start another batch," he says, "Should be plenty for her.

More pancake batter goes onto the griddle, and then Steve takes his coffee mug with quick, "Thank you." He takes a sip of it as he leans back against the counter again. "Probably a few good farms up near the Triskelion. Haven't really explored any of them though. Well, except for some snowmobiling on a farm up there someone invited us to. Not that you can tell what they are going to be growing in the middle of winter. No blueberries I don't think."

He snaps his fingers. "Reminds me, we were talking about a winter camping trip sometime for the team. Never did get it scheduled."

Clint Barton has posed:
"Perfect, thanks. Life-saver, really."

Clint's own coffee cup is lifted in a half-toast, and he takes the first swallow of the hot liquid. "Mmm.. needed it."

Gesturing towards the cooking with his mug, "Any other of mom's recipes we should know about? Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, maybe? I can spot a mean spud." The grin rises, "You probably could too. How much time did you spend peeling potatoes as punishment?"

The thought of berry picking does add that extra bit of cheer. "I'm not sure I'd pick anything to eat near the Tris. I swear, but there are stories of three-eyed fish in the area." Taking another swallow, Clint shakes his head, "Wouldn't be surprised, really.

"Though, the idea of a winter camping trip? Absolutely. Count me in. I can set that up if you want. Get everyone off their lazy butts and get out into the great outdoors." Yeah, how many missions in Russia in winter and its surroundings? And Clint is up for doing it in his spare time?

Absolutely.

"I wanna see Stark's version of camping, not gonna lie. Banner I know can rough it.. mostly."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Sure," Steve says as he takes the lone pancake and adds some syrup to it, grabbing a fork. "If you want to set it up, go ahead. I know some people we can rent a couple of snowmobiles from if we pick somewhere with trails. Maybe some ice fishing too?" he suggests before taking a bite of the pancake.

"Mmm," Steve sighs softly at the taste that takes him back. "Mom did make a mean meatloaf," he confirms. "Though Bucky's mom was probably the better cook of the two. Her fried chicken was the envy of the neighborhood," Steve recalls. He pauses a moment at the memory before taking another bite.

"I had to peel a lot in the army, during Basic Training at least. Not as much for punishment though. I know you might find this hard to believe, but I was pretty well behaved," Steve says, flashing a grin over to Clint.

Clint Barton has posed:
"Perfect. We absolutely do need trails, and snowmobiles. With a good snowpack, those things are great." Not a lot of need for them in the City, however. "I'm sure someone would surprise us with wanting to ice fish. I never really was big on that." There's that grin again, "Always good for hunting, though. Maybe an elk?" Assuming, of course, he can get a license for 1 before they head out.

Clint takes his three, and sets some butter between the 'cakes before pulling a fork out and settling down at the table. No syrup needed! "Really?" That is said between bites. "Moms are usually good for that," so he's heard. He raises his coffee mug, setting down his fork for the occasion,

"Here's to simpler times, and roughing it." Which, actually, is simpler. At least for him.

The single swallow of coffee is made just for the toast, and setting his mug down, he's not about to let his pancakes get too cold. Clint turns his head, just ducking it a little, and there's that grin.. or is it a smirk? "No... really? I'm not sure I can actually buy that. I bet you were tying everyone's bootlaces together, at the very least."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Oh as an evening activity it wouldn't be too bad, the ice fishing. Once we're back at the camp and settling in with a few warm bottles of something or other," Steve suggests. "Though, I might take your advice about eating fish from certain areas these days. Not quite what it was like in the old days. Not that they didn't pollute pretty horribly, but just the same."

He takes another bite of the pancake, then flips the ones that will end up going to Wanda. "To simpler times," he agrees, picking his coffee mug back up to give the little toast before he takes a sip.