Let Them Eat Pancakes

When I was a kid, sometimes we'd have pancakes for dinner. It was usually when the household budget was tight. My Mom quit her 13-year career as an LEO to be a full-time Mom, and Dad took a lesser paying position that allowed him to be home every night. Sacrifices I know we benefited from. Certainly, I remember those dinners and the laughter and the love that lived in the house 24 and 7, more than any brand new bike I didn't get.

My brothers and I loved pancake night. Dad would grumble a little. . unless there was Bacon. Bacon I think could solve any problem. World peace. Through Bacon. Oh wait, well maybe not, but it sounds like a plan.

With or without bacon, I can sit and eat pancakes and watch the sun go up or down and the taste will take me back.

Sometimes Mom would make two kinds. Sourdough and regular. Or some with nuts and apples along with buttermilk ones.

Little bits, little bites to try them all. Dad would finally relax after a long stressful day at work, and we'd tell the tales of our day and small childhood victories. For these breakfasts for dinner, no worries about money, or rent or the future. Simply bites of life shared with those you love. I'd savor one flavor, even while anticipating the next, savory, sweet, maybe nutty, the golden disks disappearing like coins well spent. I was never able to figure out which taste I wanted to end with, one taste of time that was almost too sweet to bear, or that which was so dense that I would remember it always.This morning, a simple pancake of cornmeal and flour with berries added in. .

But what to do with the leftover batter? (as it makes much more than one person would eat). Pour it in a paper muffin cup and bake in a pan, sprinkled with some Ghirardelli chocolate chips.

Small portable bits of goodness to freeze or tote with a thermos of coffee to the workplace. I give you Puffins.