Wednesday, April 6, 2011
When I was growing up, my parents went through a phase where we'd eat pancakes constantly. Because of that, I hated pancakes for years. I couldn't stand the smell of them, and I would have rather starved than eat one.
Maybe they didn't serve them with the right kind of syrup? Maybe they bought the cheap mix? Well the whole reason that we ate them, was because we couldn't afford to eat anything else, so I'm sure it was the cheap mix.
The very best pancake that I ever ate in my life, was in Medford Oregon, at my Mom's best friends house. She had made pancakes during one of our visits, and even the scent of them cooking- was just so different from all of the other pancakes that I had ever had in my life. And when I bit into them, it was like being reborn.
Reborn into the amazing world of pancakes.
But of course from then on, I expected all pancakes to taste as good as Suzette's did (I can't believe I just typed her name, this means I'm getting closer to writing about how much I miss her- but not today). So when they didn't, I went back to hating the dry boring pancakes that landed on my plate, and vowed to never eat another one again.
Until a few years ago, when I learned how to make my own.
Now we have pancakes once a week. Sometimes twice. And its usually for dinner, rather than breakfast. I make homemade blueberry syrup every time. Dump a bag of frozen blueberries into a sauce pan with a splash of water, spin them around in the vita mix after they've bubbled for awhile, add a splash of lemon and a sprinkle of stevia, and then pour it over our fluffy piles.
This is what we're having for dinner tonight, by the way. From-scratch gluten free pancakes, smothered in mock butter and berries.
It'll turn our mouths purple, and leave the kitchen smelling like a Saturday morning cafe.
And of course, I'll think of Suzette, and the pancakes that she made for me, that gave me hope in a world where there otherwise was none.