SOLC 2019 Day 24: Pancakes


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.

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


18 thoughts on “SOLC 2019 Day 24: Pancakes

  1. Ramona says:

    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.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Terje says:

    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.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Jess B. says:

    What a heart-warming memory! So much love happens in the kitchen, learning from our families!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. margaretsmn says:

    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.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. JudyK /J Koval says:

    Beautiful story and lovely poem. I love the ending words: “unspoken love letters”….perfect! 🙂 ~JudyK

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Alice Nine says:

    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.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. mbhmaine says:

    Pancakes for dinner is one of my husband’s favorite things!


  9. Sweet, savory memories, Molly. I haven’t had blueberry pancakes in a bit, so now you have me craving some “golden perfection!”


  10. kd0602 says:

    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! 😉


  11. Amy says:

    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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