Tonight, as I was making homemade lasagna, my mind wandered to yesterday morning. Sunday mornings begin with a wonderful breakfast. Not just any breakfast. An early morning meal made by my husband.
First, he makes the coffee. And he makes it just for me, since he doesn’t drink it. As the delightful aromas of frying bacon and ground coffee beans mix, I sit at the kitchen table and read the Sunday newspaper.
While the bacon cooks, my personal chef mixes the creamy batter for the pancakes. His secret ingredients include buttermilk, a dash of lemon juice, and a little bit of vanilla. How much or what other ingredients are included, are known only to him. I simply sip my steaming coffee and watch him work.
My mouth begins to water when I see the slow drizzle of thick batter and hear the sizzle it makes as it hits the hot griddle. The eggs are the last to be prepared.
A steaming plate is set before me. Together, my husband and I enjoy the tasty morsels.
I must say, those are the sweetest pancakes I’ve ever eaten. In fact, they are so sweet, I really don’t need any syrup. The slightly crisp pancakes, the crunchy bacon, and the warm egg are a bouquet of flavors, served with love. Every Sunday morning.