This morning I made pancakes, taking me back to my childhood. Every Sunday morning if my Dad wasn't working, he made "Super" pancakes, the biggest pancakes we had ever seen. My dad cooking was a rare occasion in our house, so it seemed like a special treat! His only other dish was spaghetti he made when my mom was away. My brothers and I thought not only were these pancakes the best ever tasted, but so was the spaghetti. Surely, our father was a culinary genious!
Years later my mom was preparing spaghetti, her homemade sauce with yummy vegetables and crushed tomatoes. We protested that we wanted dad's sauce, how it was much yummier. My mom, it a moment of frustration, delcared that not only was dad's spaghetti sauce just a can of Ragu, but his pancakes weren't his own invention either, mearly a recipe out of the Junior League cookbook. We were crushed! Visions of our father becoming a famous chef were torn to pieces.
As I made the pancakes this morning, I had to laugh thinking about those Sunday mornings. Perhaps I'll also let my daughter think I'm the genius chef, on her way to stardom....
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