I don’t want to brag, but my grandma made the best pancakes. How did she make those silver dollar yummies? They were crispy along the edges and soft in the middle. Teeny tiny little pancakes made for teeny tiny hands. And on a Sunday, you could find piles of them waiting for you in the microwave. Everyone knew they were there and we all helped ourselves.
But seriously. How did she make them? Did she use a mix? Some long lost family recipe? What did she fry them in? Butter? Oil? Both? I vividly remember standing in the chair against that sat along her counter. That’s where she made those delectables. She made them in an old electric frying pan. I would watch as she made dozens. If you were good, you could have one before everyone sat down for breakfast. They were so delicious you didn’t even need butter or syrup on them. But I cannot for the life of me remember the mixing process or anything that happened after she told me it would be pancakes fro breakfast.
I miss those pancakes in made checkered kitchen with the table you had to crawl under if you were low enough on the senority list to get stuck back there. I miss my grandma and her quiet ways. I miss hearing her say Oke Dokey when you asked her almost any question.
I’ve tried to make her pancakes a million times and I just cannot replicate them. I registered for an electric frying pan for my wedding only to discover that it did not magically make my pancakes anymore Marge-esque than the ones I made on the stovetop. It’s almost not even worth trying because nothing will compare. I guess I will just have leftover pizza for breakfast. Again.