W2 Family Food Cultures

             One of my fondest memories growing up was spending the day at my Grandparent’s house. They lived on a 36-acre farm, and grew everything from sweet corn, to cabbage, to tomatoes, to the highly praised turnips. My mom would drop my brothers and me off around noon, and Grandma would take us on a picnic out in the fields. Our two cousins, who were my age, lived next door and they would join us. After a delicious picnic consisting of watermelon, potato chips, and delicious chicken salad sandwiches, my Grandpa would load up the trailer with hay and tug us around on the John Deere. We explored the woods behind the crop fields, the many trails swerving around the property, looking to spot some deer, or a rare and mysterious coyote. After the hayride was over, each grandchild got to spend time driving the tractor around, of course in plain sight of the house. It may not sound like much now, but to a little kid being able to drive a huge tractor was pure ecstasy. The rest of the day consisted of playing cards with grandma, eating ice cream, a shower, followed by a movie to put us to sleep.

            As I woke up in my mom’s high school bedroom, I could hear the commotion in the kitchen downstairs: voices chatting, dishes clanking, kids laughing, and the sound of the T.V. buzzing. All the grandchildren were on the island-bar in the kitchen, surrounding the stove where Grandma’s “made from scratch” pancakes were being concocted. Grandma took tremendous pride in whipping up the batter before the grandchildren woke up. Each grandchild, one at a time, would splash some water on the stove to hear the sizzle, and then pour the batter on and wait for the pancakes to bubble before flipping them over. She always suggested being creative when creating our pancakes, “make Mickey Mouse” (or some other weird shape). The pancakes were served with homemade maple syrup, which was much sweeter, thinner, and runnier than the store bought corn based syrup. She always stressed the ingredients in pancakes from scratch, in all honesty I can only remember a few: flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, eggs, vanilla, and buttermilk. It has been a while since I have been cooking breakfast with grandma but I do remember the taste quite vividly. The pancakes were very soft, fluffy, moist, and gooey on the inside, and had a real creamy, butter like taste. They were very thin compared to the instance batter stuff, and they seemed to melt in your mouth. Needless to say, the mornings were the best part of the visit to the farm.

            The reason Grandma’s pancake recipe is so significant is because she was making them with my mom and her siblings when they were little kids growing up. Grandma once said, “ When I am dead and gone I guarantee I will be remembered from my home made, from scratch, pancakes”. She is absolutely right. When I think of pancakes in general, even the store bought mix, I think of Grandma and the farm. I do not know if someone taught her how to make the pancakes, or how long the tradition has been going on, but as far as I am concerned they were the best flapjacks in the world. The recipe and the memories are shared between my brothers, cousins, and me, forever linking us with Grandma and the farm.