I remember thinking that a Latin incantation and three drops of my own blood seemed like a weird step for pancakes.The batter bubbled and oozed, and out of it rose a demon wearing a ‘kiss the cook apron’ with a wooden spoon in his clawed hand. He got flour all over my kitchen floor.He introduced himself as Dave, and shared with me many an infernal recipe. We made fell pancakes which steal men’s souls, and he taught me to make the cookies which the dark side is always claiming to have. We made cursed soda bread, and that giant’s bread with human bones for flour.Dave has long since returned to the pit from whence he came, but he will always have a place in my heart. A very syrupy place.