When I was growing up Pancakes were reserved for Saturday mornings. It was a thing. Saturdays meant pancakes (or occasionally french toast or waffles but mostly pancakes) and orange juice and a good start to the weekend.
Being woken up to the smell of pancakes was almost as amazing to being woken up by blueberry muffins and when those days coincided you can be sure I was in foodie heaven, even as a kid.
But really, let’s get back to the pancakes. As a kid I was in awe. My mom and dad were masters of the griddle. Like actual masters. How did they know when to flip the pancake? How did they get so many on the pan? How did they know when to start? What’s in pancakes? SO MANY QUESTIONS MOM AND DAD!
Eventually I just grew to accept that all parents knew how to make pancakes, like it was a requirement on the parent manual. Even into my adolescence my parents’ pancake skills only improved while I could barely make toast. By the time my senior year of college rolled around and I was cooking for myself I decided to give pancakes a go. However, I gave them a go at the weirdest hours – usually after 10pm. Maybe it’s because I thought they were an excellent late night snack or I just didn’t think I could live up to my parents’ breakfast, either way, I was learning.
My roomies were my first guinea pigs as I used two spatulas to flip tiny pancakes with fake blueberries. It wasn’t perfect but it was working and it was entertaining.
Fast forward to a year ago.
After many unsuccessful pancake attempts I finally broke down and told Matt “I want to make pancakes like my parents, I want to be a mom that makes pancakes one day!”
It was like a light went off.
I know I talk a lot about both my fear and embrace of growing up, but to me making pancakes is just one of those things. One of those things that means, I’ve made it. And one day I look forward to waking my kids up to the smell of pancakes and having them look in me at awe over something so small.
And now, a year later, after lots of practice and toying with recipes I can almost say I’m there. And hopefully my future kids appreciate all my delicious effort, ha.
happy friday!
Posted in Sparkling Revelations
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Oh my word. I have the same memories! My mom would make the house smell so amazing and I loved her for it. We would rush downstairs for breakfast. So yummy. I think I wanna be that awesome mom someday too!
I miss the days of having my mom cook me breakfast. Waffles/pancakes, cheesy eggs, bacon. YUM. The best. Even if it was just me and her at the table, I didn’t care. I started making a big breakfast at least one Saturday a month when we have the kidlets; I think they really enjoy it. It’s a lot of fun!
I am sure your future kids (and Matt and any house guests) will love and appreciate your cooking skills!
Yum! Pancakes! They were not a thing in Germany for breakfast (my Mom would sometimes make the French version (crepe) for lunch with apples, plums or cherries and I loved those!)
I feel the exact same way about an Irish breakfast. Loved this post.
so your parents rocked at pancakes…my dad made a mean “dip and toast” egg, which I still call them to this day even though everyone else says “sunnyside” or whatever.
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