It’s July 15th which means another recipe and review post. But this one is different: It’s also my birthday and I want to make this post a little more special. As someone creeping steadily towards middle age, I demand a return to happy, simpler times. I didn’t really have those, so my childhood will have to suffice.
Hey, now, here’s a concept! Cake Batter Pancakes from Betty Crocker! I love cake. White cake, yellow cake, sheet cake, carrot cake, angel food cake, but especially my childhood favorite, confetti cake. One of my favorite designs is polka dot, and I was thrilled as a kid to see it in dessert form. It was fun, colorful, and brought back memories of my earliest childhood playing with my stuffed toys among polka dot bed sheets.
Cake is good and all, but I wanted something different. What about confetti pancakes for breakfast? The only thing that would have been better was confetti waffles, but let’s not get too wild.
The adaptation of their own cake mix is pretty straightforward, but I wanted to do more than follow directions. The cooking bug had bitten me and left a sickness I can never cure. If I can’t make one thing from scratch, I’m not a happy cook. I can’t replicate the Betty Crocker cake mix, but I know plenty of Bisquick alternatives floating around the internet.
Here’s the best Bisquick substitute I found. It makes the right amount that I need for the cake batter pancakes and it justifies my purchase of a pastry cutter.
Sifting the dry ingredients was easy enough, but the butter didn’t want to be mashed. Scraping a knife along the wires on both sides dislodged the butter, but I had to do this in several intervals before it was completely cut up and became one with the flour.
Cake batter ingredient roll call! One cup of faux Bisquick, one cup Rainbow Chip cake mix, one cup milk, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 2 eggs. I omitted the candy sprinkles and glaze because my plan for the resulting pancakes would be sugary enough and I was already treading dangerous, artery-clogging waters by substituting milk with ½ cup heavy whipping cream and ½ cup water.
Looking good already. I could have used a regular skillet to cook this up, but why settle for anything gauche on my birthday?
It’s shiny, it’s coated, and it saves me the struggle of trying to perfectly flip the cakes. The only downside is that it cooks a little too well. As in, on high heat, one side gets overcooked if you leave it alone for a minute. I needed to time the cakes for 30-45 seconds on each side.
There’s not enough syrup in the world that could have saved these. I wondered if the birds would appreciate the treat? They can’t taste spicy stuff, so maybe the same goes for burnt crap.
Look at those beauties! So puffy and soft. And they sure were soft; handling them almost broke them in half. The surfaces were almost crisp, like tapping hard enough would crack them. The insides were pure, colorful softness.
Now for the part I’d been looking forward to the most. The Betty Crocker recipe called for glaze and sprinkles, but I wanted to take it a step further. I wanted to frost my pancakes.
What was more suitable frosting than the brand’s own Rainbow Chip? I spread some on the first pancake… then I dabbed it because spreading was making the pancake tear again… then I added another pancake and fumbled with more frosting… another pancake, more tearing, more dabbing… this might have been a mistake…
Oh, dear Lord, I have to destroy it.
I cut a small slice. If you make anything like this—and I don’t recommend it—a small slice is the only way you can consume this and not black out from sugar overload. The frosting-to-cake ratio was surprisingly decent. My teeth didn’t hurt, but my stomach was protesting the onslaught—and I hadn’t even swallowed.
I sampled a smaller pancake I’d made earlier, and by itself, it’s great. There’s a hint of cake batter in every bite. Much preferable to the sugar assault the layered monstrosity offered.
So cake batter pancakes sans or with syrup: delightful breakfast treat. Cake batter pancakes with gobs of frosting: sugary agony. Sugargony… sugagony…
Yikes. That was an experience. Still plenty of tiered pancakes left over. Eugh. Maybe I’ll eat it for breakfast throughout the week, find a few coworkers brave enough to sample it.
Side note: My Google skills were lacking when I first searched for made-from-scratch Rainbow Chip cake recipes. When researching the years confetti cake made its debut, I used “how long has confetti cake been around” and got a slew of homemade recipes. Rainbow Chip is a proprietary name owned by Betty Crocker, which was probably why I had no luck the first time. Next year I may try one of the homemade versions I found.
With our teeth aching and stomachs gurgling, let’s check out…
The Popples! That’s right, brightly colored, magical marsupials were my jam in pre- and grade school. Kids of the 80s are probably more familiar with the cartoons than the live-action special, but the special was what kicked off the short-lived series. The cartoon itself was nothing spectacular. It was about two kids and a posse of Popples turning everyday happenings into adventures. Safe, if a little mind-numbing, but the “Popple magic” kept my attention.
(What is a group of Popples called? I used posse because it starts with a P, but for all I know it could be a pocket of Popples. A purse. A pillage. A pluhdudpleedah.)
The special for me was a mystery. From early childhood up until now, I vaguely recalled a single scene where the Popples were jumping out of a box. What I remember clearly is being upset that I’d tuned in so close to the ending. My favorite characters had gone on an adventure and I wasn’t there with them! It was the biggest travesty of my young life.
Now is the time to make up for a lost opportunity. It’s time to watch what kicked off my favorite childhood obsession.
(I should mention that the only “copies” I was able to get on short notice were 360p videos on Dailymotion and YouTube, so the screenshots aren’t going to be the best.)
We open our special to the sound of grown-up chatter. Our heroes, Bonnie (Kamie Harper) and Billy Wagner (Brandon Bluhm), have sat through a stultifying dinner, and their expressions prove it.
As Mom (Nancy Lenehan) and Dad (Jim Staahl) clear the table, Grandpa leans towards the kids and says, “You know, it’s the dumb drywall that’s killing craftsmanship in America! Lath and plaster! Lath and plaster is what we had in my day!” Cripes, I’m thirty-six and I didn’t know what lath was until today. What would a four-year-old Ellie in 1986 do with that information?
Before he can regale the kids on the virtues of asbestos and cellulose insulation, Grandpa has a coughing fit. Bonnie quickly offers to fetch some water when Grandma gently tells her, “Don’t bother, honey, it’ll pass. The doctor says it’s just like shaking out a vacuum cleaner bag.” Mundane health nuisances make for riveting children’s media.
The parents return with Dad inviting the grandparents to coffee in the living room. Mom suggests the kids run along to the playroom. Billy lamely counters, “Nah, I wanna watch Dad watch the game,” creating the first recorded instance of a Let’s Watch. Relieved, Bonnie thanks Mom and then taunts Billy. “Biiiig mistake, dumbhead!”
Mirthful piano music follows Bonnie upstairs. Well, “mirthful” is being kind. It sounds like someone jouncing their knuckles over the keys. There are even cymbals and trumpets. Going to the playroom is a big event in this house.
Bonnie flies into the playroom, which appears to be a cluttered, unfinished attic. I would have loved one of those growing up. A playroom, I mean.
She goes straight into playing dress up, donning a lavender feather boa and a hat that I swear is made out of granny squares. Then she gets a journal and markers out of a toy box, sits at a giant cardboard box in lieu of a desk, and writes. Thrill to the joy of Popples!
By the way, the music has become what I can only call “jangly music box with pan flute backup.” It’s… a treat for the ears.
As Bonnie writes an imaginary autobiography, a chirpy giggle shakes the box. She pays the oncoming shenanigans no mind. Just as she’s getting to the good part about her imaginary horse being brown, she hears a pop and another giggle. She quickly whips around in her chair and calls out, “Who’s there?!”
Bonnie doesn’t see anything except for junk and a portion of Grandpa’s precious lath and plaster. Finding nothing of import, she goes on to write that the horse takes the girl to school every day “but not on the freeway.” Suddenly, she jumps back as her cardboard desk shakes. A flap flips up and out rolls a pink ball. It bounces into the air, giggling madly all the while until it comes to an abrupt stop, revealing itself to be an animal of some kind.
Quick! You’re a kid in an 80s flick and you’ve just encountered a creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Do you…
- Run away, screaming for the nearest adult and attempt to show them the creature only to have said creature not be there.
- Back up against a wall or stand in place and stare as you stutter, “Wh-who are you? What are you?”
- Run and hide, preferably while screaming loudly.
- Approach the creature without a word and begin tickling it.
Bonnie takes the last option because we’re going to be breaking a few sacred tropes in this special. May as well start now. Hey, hey, that’s getting too close to that Popple’s pocket, kid.
“Nice to meet you! My name is Party Popple!” giggles our new friend. And does she giggle. Every breath, every pause, every end of a sentence is a giggle. I’m starting to wonder if “Popple” might be these creatures’ slang for something.
“You talk!” Bonnie exclaims. Party giggles, “So do you!” As a kid, I would have been charmed by this, but as an adult, I take issue with this snickery comeback.
Party takes out a flag and waves it around, cueing a panoply of Popples to come flying out of the box. Let’s meet these puppet pals lacking real personalities (voiced by Stevie (Louise) Vallance, Bruce Lanoil, and Terry Castillo).
Top row:
- Party. I know we just met her. I just wanted to fill out the grid.
- Pretty Bit. Her perk is that she speaks in rhyme, which she only does once in this special. I had a toy of her.
- Puffball. I remember her teaming up with Putter and Potato Chip regularly in the cartoons. She might have been the tomboy of the group. We don’t find out much else in the special. I wanted a toy of her.
Middle row:
- Pancake. She didn’t get a lot of airtime in the cartoons. I don’t know her specialty.
- Puzzle. He blinks creepily. As a kid, I liked him because he was kind of like a goofball older brother. As an adult, I think he’s a bit touched. My brother had a toy of him.
- Prize. In the cartoon, she was a major bitch with a hair-trigger temper. She has no anger management issues in the special.
Bottom row:
- Putter. Stutters on the letter P. The smaller goofball of the bunch and the biggest source of mischief in the cartoons. He doesn’t cause any in the special.
- Potato Chip. Her defining trait is being hungry all the time. In the cartoons, she’s like that one friend who asks to stop at the 7-11 for churros and a pizza an hour after the whole gang has had the Never Ending Pasta Bowl at the Olive Garden. I had a toy of her.
- Last but least, PC, which is short for Pretty Cool (but I bet it’s even shorter for Prettitius Coolbert or something awfully lame). As per 80s rules, the cool guy is automatically the leader of any group despite never exercising any leadership qualities.
If you need trivia from this movie, I have this: The puppets were created by the Chiodo Brothers, whom we have to thank for the childhood-scarring Large Marge scene in Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.
Mesmerized, Bonnie approaches PC. “I must be dreaming!” she says. “I have that effect on women,” PC un-creepily responds with a fitting laugh. Ugh.
Bonnie asks how they came about. It’s quite simple, really: When you have all your favorite things in one place, like a toy box or a closet, and “your imagination is cookin’,” Popples appear. They’re not cryptids or a previously undiscovered species, it’s all magic. Or as PC says, “It’s maaaaAAAAAaaaagic!”
I call bull. I’ve had all my favorite things in one place and Popples never appeared. Or I suppose that every favorite thing I ever owned is required to be in a small space? What if my car is a favorite item? I can’t drive it up the stairs, and even if I somehow accomplished that, I could fit maybe the grill inside a closet. Some of my favorite things are in storage for that matter. This Popple logic is poppycock.
Wanting to share the joy, Bonnie gets her brother to come up to the attic. Billy is no less surprised than Bonnie and wholeheartedly accepts the wonderment. He even accepts a cookie from Potato Chip, which she produced from her pouch. Ugh, man, don’t! You don’t know if that pouch is lined with mucus.
Now that the whole gang’s here, why not partake in an obligatory 80s song sung by Springsteen wannabe PC? Not a montage, an all-out original song! It’s… well, the lights and colors would have impressed a four-year-old Ellie, although the synth-drowned lyrics would probably have flown over her head. Interspersing the songs are clips of the Popples having fun, the animated bumpers from the cartoon, and a couple of things that go pop! Because Popples!
(Okay, I threw in Large Marge to give myself a cheap laugh.)
Of course you’re wondering about the lyrics. The lying, lying lyrics that promise excitement, wonder, pop-y things, and bleh.
It’s time to kick your heels
See how good it really feels
Get another point of view
It’s time that you tried something new
Life is full of big surprises
Coming at you in disguises
So get ready
Hold on steady
Open up your eyes
Pop, it’s magic!
Popple magic!
It happens every day
Pop, it’s magic!
Popple magic!
Just pop the day away!
Popple [synth garble] upside-down
Popple [ladle?] all around
Now’s the time to take a chance
Just dive on in and join the dance
Life is full of big surprises
Coming at you in disguises
So get ready
Hold on steady
Open up your eyes
Pop, it’s magic!
Popple magic!
It happens every day
Pop, it’s magic!
Popple magic!
Just pop the day away!
(Pop! Pop!)
Yeah, pop the day away!
(Pop! Pop!)
Just pop the day away!
(Pop! Pop!)
Yeah, pop the day away!
Everyone strokes PC’s ego as if the entire production was a solo effort. Mom calls up to the kids to inform them it’s bedtime. Bonnie gives Party a rather intimate kiss above the mouth, and Billy similarly gives Potato Chip a way too friendly kiss on the forehead.
Breaking another 80s trope, the kids make plans to tell their parents. However, since the grownups are too busy talking about coffee, they decide to hold off until a more appropriate time.
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m so underwhelmed by all this, I need another bite of my pancake monstrosity for fuel.
The next day, the pride of Popples are hanging out in the attic. Party appears to be reading something; Prize is dabbing at her face with an oversized oven mitt; Putter, Potato Chip, and Puzzle are bouncing on a trampoline; Puffball is digging through a drawer; PC and Pretty Bit are playing go fish; and Pancake is watching the last two. It’s a riot.
Without warning, Dad arrives. The Popples disappear into the box. Given the animals’ reaction to a grown human possibly discovering them, Bonnie and Billy’s plan to inform their parents of their new friends may not be a good one. After drilling a hole in the box to make a peephole, the Popples crowd around to watch Dad’s sneakers ominously approach their hiding spot. Everything suddenly goes black as someone, probably Party, giggles.
Fade in to the kids returning from a day at school. I love the music playing here. I call it “happy bumbler going about town,” and I wish I possessed more musical knowledge to name the wind instrument being used. I want to say it’s a trombone. Whatever it is, it’s pretty mismatched for this short bit.
Man, oh, man, this is great. The kids are ready to tell their parents about the Popples! But Mom and Dad also have a surprise! It’s in the attic! Even they’re excited! So excited that they can’t wait to show the kids and won’t let them reveal their own surprise! They gotta go up now! Nyyeaaarrgh, excitement!!!
Mom and Dad just moved some things around and tidied up the place. Yay.
But the Popples! The kids freak out with Billy bellowing, “WHERE’S DA POPPLES?!” Bonnie’s face crumples on cue a second later. “They’re gone!” They run into the playroom while Mom and Dad stare at each other.
Cut to later that night with Mom reading psychology books in bed and Dad doing his nocturnal ablutions. Mom reads aloud, “It says here that ‘children often create attachments to imaginary friends. Tampering with a child’s imaginary reality can be traumatic and may cripple them emotionally in later years.'”
Yes, this is what I wanted to see as a four-year-old, grownups discussing crap I couldn’t have understood even if it was acted out with Popples toys. I guess watching Bonnie and Billy lie awake and worrying about their new friends wouldn’t have been interesting to kids? Not even having the siblings hold a secret meeting at night and discuss how they were going to find the Popples? Anything that would have happened in a real 80s kids movie?
Dad assures Mom that they didn’t ruin their children by cleaning out the attic. Mom retorts that Bonnie called them “unfeeling Popple robbers,” which did get a chuckle out of me. They decide to make it up to the kids by letting them take charge the next day. Sounds like a plan.
“Being a big meanie sure does take a lot out of a guy,” Dad wryly comments as he puts away his glasses. He turns off the light on his nightstand and they snuggle up for a peaceful slumber. I’m about to snore myself.
Next morning, the whole family is at the breakfast table enjoying a dour meal. Mom pours OJ, Dad reads the paper, and the kids cut their eyes at the traitors.
The Popples!
Wow, you dorks. One of the main rules of 80s kids flicks is when things go wrong, you take action. Is the government doing experiments on your neighbors? Investigate! Did the school bully steal your lunch? Initiate a food fight in the cafeteria the next day! Conduct a damn rescue mission, so get on your bikes and haul ass to the Goodwills!
But like the inactive twerps they are, Bonnie and Billy wait for their parents to make the first move. Dad is about to talk about the price of gold when he reads that the weather is supposed to be nice. He suggests going to the zoo, but Billy hates the zoo ever since their parents “trashed the Popples!”
Mom tries to reason by saying that they just gave the old stuff to Goodwill. Bonnie brings up a good point by saying that they tossed out their personal belongings without warning them. Mom blithely answers, “Honey, you don’t warn someone when it’s a surprise.” Decades from now, Bonnie and Billy are going to pull out that retort when it comes to finding Mom and Dad an old folks’ home.
Dad says that since they screwed up, they’ll spend the day doing whatever the kids desire. The kids immediately decide on visiting every Goodwill. Billy helpfully adds that one of his friends in school once told him that Goodwill crushes unwanted boxes before sending them to the city dump. You think he would have brought that up as soon as the box’s fate was mentioned.
But before going on any rescue mission, Mom says that they have to finish their breakfast. The kids once again oblige. They don’t even protest. Mystical furballs could possibly be in danger but they’re still obedient to the nonbelievers. Gads.
Meanwhile, the parade of Popples tosses about the box as it’s moved to its destination. From all the noise they’re making, I’m surprised the humans moving the box don’t hear it. Most of them are yelling, but there’s at least one female making sounds like she’s being pleasured. Eugh.
Finally, the box stops moving. Party (without giggling, surprise) asks PC what that was all about. “I dunno, but it sounds like it hurts!” He gulps. And they don’t do anything else.
The Popples!!!
So was that drill they used to make a peephole earlier a one-time use? They can’t… I dunno, magic up something to help them escape?
Nope, they’re going to be dummies in distress and wait to be rescued. The Wagners finally take action and drive to all the Goodwills. Mom kind of gets into it, crossing off addresses on a legal pad, but Dad looks like he’s ready to sternly tell someone that this has gone on too long.
All this time we could have been watching the Popples cause hijinx in the store. It’s a Goodwill. In the 80s! Think of all the weird stuff they could have played with. The toys they could have made come to life, the dresses with eye-poking shoulder pads they could have tried on, another other song number they could have put on about the wonders of thrift stores.
The Popples!!!
It’s almost six o’clock. Mom says they gave it their best shot. Dad pipes in with the “double trouble” from the burger joint starting to repeat. Thanks, Dad. But that’s all a hint to say that the adults have had their fill of fun and it’s time to give up the mission. Hope springs again as Bonnie spots another Goodwill. Dad glumly agrees to pull over.
I understand the in-universe need to rescue the Popples, but can’t Bonnie scrounge up more favorite things in a small space and use her imagination to magic them back or at least bring about some new Popples?
Anyway, the kids scramble up to the doors just as the old lady is locking them. A brokenhearted Bonnie slides to the concrete. Mom tries the “get ice cream on the way home” tactic, but nothing can fill the Popple-shaped hole in the little girl’s heart. Billy seems to be taking this a lot better, even telling a curious onlooker that his sister is “just freaking out.”
Bonnie spots the familiar box among the clutter in the storefront. Round two of pleading with the gatekeeper. When the biddy opens the door to inform the family that she’s closed, the kids wriggle their way in and make a beeline for the box.
Freedom! There’s my vague childhood memory of this special. The peculiar of Popples pops out, accompanied by streamers, confetti, and balloons. Mom and Dad are astounded. The old shopkeep collapses in a chair and Puzzle, for some reason, shines a flashlight in her eyes. The kids are reunited with their buddies.
Um… uh, Bonnie asks Party if she’s okay. Party practically purrs, “Yeah, now that you’re here. *giggle*” Call me weird, but I don’t think Bonnie is going to be checking out boys when she gets older.
Mom seems to think this is all pretty cool, but Dad isn’t buying “magic in a Goodwill” as an explanation for these creatures’ existence. PC lays it down for him: “Y’see, Dad, a little love… a little imagination… and pop! You got Popples!”
“I think I get it,” says Dad with the resolve of a man who’s given up on the world making any sense.
Hey, wait, love and imagination? You said I needed all my favorite things in a small space and imagination! What’s this love crap you’re throwing in now?
Anyway, Party asks PC if they can keep the humans. No, I’m serious, she playfully asks him “Can we keep them?” Mom and Dad agree. Everyone cheers. Bonnie gets in a few more kisses and belly rubs for Party. Potato Chip declares that it’s time for a celebration. Putter turns on a TV that plays the Popples song from earlier.
Yep. Celebrating by watching a shortened version of the song. I can’t think of another way to end this, so… yeah, Popples, everyone.
Getting into the mindset of a little kid, I can see why this would be somewhat enjoyable. The Popples are made real through puppetry, colors abound, and the synth bubble gum song is halfway tolerable.
But the dialogue is cheesy, the kids are barely proactive, and there’s no real adventure. I understand there’s only so much that can happen in a special that’s almost twenty-five minutes long, but wow. I don’t think I could sit through this with my own nonexistent kids unless they begged me. A lot of work obviously went into this special yet the finished product… well… falls short. I didn’t really miss a whole lot all those years ago.
It plops. It’s plopple unmagic.
But I still have questions. Is the number of favorite things stored in a particular setting proportional to the number of Popples I’ll receive? How many Popples on average can I expect? If I have only one favorite item, does that mean I get only one Popple or maybe one of those weird Pufflings? How does one go about getting the sports Popples? Are favorite gardening supplies the reason why those odd flower Popples existed? How did we get the baby Popples? Does this mean Popples have no means of reproducing? How are Popples aware of their own creation?
Help me understand!
