Oh sure I love gyros and baklava just like most folks, but I draw the line at being associated with that weird little half goat / half dude Greek God of mythology! I don’t dispute my hairy legs, hooves, and the fact that I can play a mean 3 octave scale on a flute? I can’t help the horny head and satanic similarities either, but I swear the only Greek God I follow on Facebook is “Pita Pan”, the portly paladin of peanut butter.
Despite cruel rumors to the contrary, the perforated pan that I find most godly does NOT reside within my lack of videographic ability, or a less than flattering blog review. No in fact, my favorite pan is a 100% flute-free, tin Frisbee that will never witness Jehova unless he needs a perfect pizza or a tray of tasty choco-chip cookies expertly browned every time.
Its ‘hole-y’ presence aside, don’t kid yourself, my pan is tough and it faces the oven’s dominion of fiery purgatory every day just like it owns the place. I have only had trouble with it once and that was in an unfortunate polka dot tanning incident which I attribute primarily to that hot-head practical joker, Apollo. It’s not handy protection either when Zeus blows his nose overhead, but on the other hand it strains a pot o’ pasta like nobody’s business.
So take my advice, if you want cooking salvation, grab the holiest pan you can and plan to become a fan. You’ll soon learn the only dough you KNEAD to be happy is made of pizza flour, and life’s golden brown parachutes are best unfurled on hot aluminum and covered in GREECE. As high-brow Greek gods go, my PAN may not seem like much except to Paula Deen ’s hillbilly baking family tree. But no matter, I’m still am a ‘PAN-TASTIC’ true believer of the one and only, tried and true cooking ‘god’ which remains closest to my heart . . . and hopefully furthest away from UNDER my bed.