There is something almost indecently pleasurable about a stack of buttermilk pancakes on a lazy weekend morning. The buttermilk gives them this gorgeous tang and the most impossibly tender, cloud-like texture. They practically dissolve on the tongue. I won't pretend this is health food, darlings. This is about melted butter pooling on top, rivulets of maple syrup cascading down the sides, and eating them slowly in your dressing gown while the rest of the world rushes about. Pure, unapologetic weekend bliss.