March 2019 SOLC–Day 24
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org
I finally got a chance to check out the food prompts on the poetry challenge I was supposedly participating in this month. I haven’t looked for days. Maybe a week. I could have found time to at least look, but that would have triggered a tsunami of guilt for not writing response poems, and I’ve been avoiding that.
At any rate, today Catherine Flynn posted a photo of blueberry pancakes. I immediately thought of long ago days making pancakes with my mom. I still remember the old double-sided electric griddle. I remember using the metal ladle to carefully scoop thick batter from the heavy mixing bowl, and the satisfying sizzle of the batter as it met the griddle’s hot surface. I remember my mom telling me to wait for the bubbles to rise through the batter and stay open before turning the pancakes. I remember holding the spatula. Poised. Waiting. Waiting. And I remember that I couldn’t wait. I’d flip the pancake and it would slop into a half-cooked and oddly shaped oval. Oops. Next time, I ‘d promise myself, I’d wait. I rarely did. Even now, I have a hard time with that.
I also remembered my delight when my mother or grandmother occasionally made us pancakes shaped like our initials. It struck me today that those pancakes contained a world of love.
Sometimes she shaped the pancakes
using batter to scribe our initials
onto the seasoned griddle
waiting patiently for the bubbles
to rise through the batter
and softly pop
taking care to flip each letter
browning the sides to golden perfection
slipping them onto our waiting plates
unspoken love letters
©Molly Hogan, 2019
Nix the comfort zone 
Lovely remembrance, I love the step-by-step in this slice. My mom used to make turtle pancakes for my kids! Unspoken love letters,” is a perfect ending.
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Oh, turtle pancakes. Such fun! I wish I’d thought of that! I bet your kids remember those pancakes fondly 🙂
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Warm and sweet memory. I am a big fan of pancakes. In our family we make many different kinds. I remember the pancakes my grandma made. Now I eat the ones my daughter sometimes makes.
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I remember having pancakes for dinner when my dad was out of town. That was such a treat!
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What a wonderful memory to share. My husband is the pancake maker in our house and he too details to the kids how to make the perfect pancake once it is on the griddle. The kids love the shapes he makes! Thanks for sharing.
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Apparently elephants, turtles, and teddy bears are popular choices. My children were clearly deprived! lol
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What a heart-warming memory! So much love happens in the kitchen, learning from our families!
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You said it–“So much love happens in the kitchen!”
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I went ahead and sent this poem to my mother without waiting for your response. The thing is my mom would never let us help in the kitchen, so I never learned to make them myself. I know about the bubbles, but I can never get them to taste like Mom’s.
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I hope your mom enjoys it, Margaret. I would bet that your girls think your pancakes are the best!
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No. I don’t even try anymore.
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Beautiful story and lovely poem. I love the ending words: “unspoken love letters”….perfect! 🙂 ~JudyK
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Thanks! That was one of those endings that just felt like it fell into place. They’re rare!
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Wonderful memories… lovely poem, especially the last line. My mother made us animals shapes with pancakes. Funny, but now buttermilk pancakes with extra egg and blueberries (ones we picked in the summer) is high on the list of favorite evening meals for Carl and me.
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Pancakes for dinner is one of my husband’s favorite things!
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Sweet, savory memories, Molly. I haven’t had blueberry pancakes in a bit, so now you have me craving some “golden perfection!”
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I love the play on “love letters” in your poem. But then, I love your poetry anyway! Such a good memory. I think this poem should count as reason to push that tsunami of guilt away…it may have needed to “season” for the memory to come! 😉
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love the play on words in “love letters” . I also really enjoyed the tsunami of guilt phrase at the very start of your piece. Of course guilt comes in waves typically but BIG guilt comes in a tsunami! Of course reading your post sets me down the lane remembering all the way back to my first grade teacher and the “magic” blueberry pancakes we mixed and made right in class! Funny how food can connect you across the years to so many vivid things. Enjoying your daily slices of writing.
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