Here in the south, people will fry anything. And I do mean ANYTHING. There is a small cafe not far from here that even deep fries TWINKIES. Ah, Hostess never knew what hit them.

Personally, I believe frying to be grossly misunderstood. When the oil is the right temperature, and the food is gently coated with a wonderful batter, the resulting experience is a true chemistry revelation and not one that should be poo-pooed too quickly. (Poo-pooed? Is that a word? Oh well, it is now.) What is even more villified is the use of butter when frying. It’s not just about oil ya know. Butter is the original sizzle medium. I crack up about how creepy people think this is. Folks frown when that little yellow brick is removed from the fridge as though there should be regulation at the state level about its uses. Yes, it’s been at the center of many a controversy, but its qualities are so broad, its makeup so versatile that I could write an entire cookbook about BUTTER.

Now to get to the good point. And that is what happens to a great pancake when IT is fried in butter. Holy moly and cut me off a piece of that good stuff. I’m all over it and there’s no way you’re gonna talk me out of it.

You would think I wouldn’t have to put anything else on something covered in butter. But that’s the great thing about this 14 karat bar of dairy magic. Everything is better with something else on top of it! Especially syrup. And not just ANY syrup. I took fresh raspberries and sugar and water, added a little vanilla, a touch of lemon juice and a bit of port wine and reduced it down to the most intense, heavenly and glistening topping ever.

Try resisting that when it’s slid onto your fork and you’ll be BUTTER-BELIEVER!