This post is about pancakes. Ironically, it has absolutely no connection to yesterday's post about a girl named pancake.
My kids love pancakes. Every morning for breakfast they eat Pillsbury Microwave Pancakes . They occasionally ask for the pancakes for snacks in the afternoon and on rare times of laziness or exhaustion, I give them pancakes for dinner as well. They have specifications for eating the pancakes. Ezra likes his syrup poured directly on the pancake and then he folds it up and eats it with his hands. Gila demands the syrup be on the side, she needs her pancakes cut up and she either eats them with a fork (which she prounouces "fierk") or her hands.
This afternoon when Gila was asking for pancakes, I started thinking, "Where did these kids come from? I am not such a pancake eater." When BAM a flashback of memories came back to me.
The year was 1983. I was six years old and my extended family went on a three or four day excursion to the Grossinger's resort in the Catskill Mountains. Grossinger's was one of the most legendary hotels of the Catskill Resorts , especially during the "Catskill's Era" (before my time-THINK Dirty Dancing). ANYWAY, there we were with my grandparents, my great-uncles and aunts, and various second cousins. My sister and I were the ONLY kids there. My old European great-uncles and grandfather made us kiss them on their cheek's in exchange for quarters for the arcade room. The food was probably great, but I was so picky- I refused to try anything new. The best thing that happened on the trip was when I realized that I could order pancakes at ANY meal. At breakfast it was a breeze. At lunch, in the coffee shop- pretty easy too. At dinner, with my grandfather (Of Blessed Memory) standing over me saying in a thick Russian/Yiddish accent "You don't eat any protein.
You are all skin and bones," it was a little more difficult- but luckily I had my parents there to defend me. At every meal, I got 4 or 5 perfectly round and even pancakes stacked up on a big plate with as much syrup as I wanted on the side. Heaven. I'm sure my mother will chime in that it is virtually impossible that I got pancakes for dinner because at the time we went to Grossinger's it was strictly kosher and the dinners were probably meat ones. Whatever, this is my memory. I don't remember eating anything else besides pancakes during that entire glorious vacation.
Ironic that I remember my grandfather standing over my shoulder though. Maybe I will think twice before I say something like he would have said when my kids are going through their pancake craze. Let's face it, they come to it legitimately!
Posted by peninah at January 20, 2004 07:19 PM