Pancakes Taste Better When Someone Else Makes Them (and That’s Not Just About Pancakes)

There’s something oddly sacred about eating a pancake you didn’t flip yourself. It hits different. Not just in flavor, but in feeling. Somehow, the sugar is sweeter, the texture fluffier, the experience warmer — even if it’s a little burnt around the edges. Especially if it’s a little burnt.

I used to think it was about laziness. That food tastes better when you haven’t had to wash the dishes afterward. And sure, there’s truth to that. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized it’s about something deeper: receiving. And if you're anything like me — someone who has spent years perfecting the art of giving, fixing, handling, managing — then receiving might feel unfamiliar. Maybe even a bit… uncomfortable.

When someone makes you pancakes — or tea, or dinner, or even a mediocre sandwich — what they’re really saying is: “Sit down. You don't have to do it all today.”

And that? That’s revolutionary.

We live in a culture that worships self-sufficiency. We post about “being that girl” and “romanticizing our lives” — but only if we’re the ones lighting the candles, stirring the batter, and running the show. It’s exhausting.

And sometimes, what your nervous system needs isn’t more self-care... it’s shared care.

So yes, pancakes made by someone else taste better — not just because you’re hungry, but because in that moment, you’re being fed. Nurtured. Considered. And if that’s not spiritual, I don’t know what is.

Maybe the real luxury isn’t the perfect brunch you crafted alone with matching napkins and background jazz.

Maybe it’s a slightly uneven stack of pancakes, made with love (or chaos), by someone who just wanted to make sure you ate something today.

So let them cook. Let yourself receive. And if no one’s around to make you pancakes? Order them. Or better yet, make a deal with a friend: you do the dishes, they flip the batter. That counts too.

Some of us are healers who forget to heal ourselves. But even witches need to be fed — not by the universe, not by moonlight, but by someone who hands them a plate and says: “You first.” Because yes — even witches need someone else to make them pancakes sometimes. 🥞🖤🔮