When holidays roll around and family gathers, I always think about pancakes. My son loves to make them, and it’s probably due, in part, to our frequent trips to the IHOP to have breakfast on weekends when the kids were young. He likes the basic Aunt Jemima Buttermilk Complete, and he cooks them on the electric griddle just at the right temperature so that they turn out golden brown and as close to perfect as a pancake can get. I enjoy watching his intense focus on the process.
But when he isn’t here and I want pancakes, I get too lazy to make them. I don’t want to clean up the mess, so I start getting a hankering for pancakes on Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve Pancake Dreams
I’m down for
one of those
specialty pancake houses
with a hundred tables
and thick-rimmed coffee mugs
where silverware clinks
and conversations turn to laughter
where waitresses run around in half-aprons
and sneakers with bobby socks
and have big hair
and the place is alive
with gourmet presentations
bananas flambe’ with burnished cool whip
blueberry apple compote crumble
caramel chocolate with toffee chips
peanut butter and jelly with potato chip sprinkles
peppermint mocha with candy cane dust
peach and apricot with brandy drizzle
and all those wild combinations
all that sounds delicious
but the reality is always the same ~
I’ll take three plain buttermilk cakes
Aunt Jemima style
a cup of black coffee
and a pot of warm syrup
because simple is best
Common Threads 
This Christmas I am flooded with memories of my mother. She was the best pancake maker ever. I’ve never been able to duplicate them. They don’t make them like hers anywhere as far as I’m concerned. Thanks for the memory.
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