Pancake Sunday

Weekends in my alleged retirement (Llara, here’s where the ha comes in) do not bear the same demarcations as they did when I was locked into the nine-to-five grind. Saturdays are not for chores and errands which now can be interspersed throughout the week. At the same time I find myself working on the newsletter and writing on Saturdays and Sundays and often do not take a full day off. Not that this is bad, because writing of any kind adds not detracts from my life. And the ability to juggle time is the greatest gift of these years.

Still Sundays, seem to be different from the rest of the week.

This Sunday pancakes were on the breakfast menu. On an expedition Barbara and I found real maple syrup at a price that did not mean sacrificing something else to pay for, like your first born child. Yesterday at the marché I could smell the strawberries as I passed one of the tables. They were picked from the patch of the young girl selling them. How could I refuse to buy a barque that although they locked like their supermarket cousins, had tasted like strawberries squared rather than feeling like strawberries in your mouth and having to pretend they had some taste.
Using a bowl, found at Rockport decades ago and decorated with medieval figures, I began my Sunday pancake creation…

1 ½ cups flour
½ cup oatmeal
½ teaspoon salt
2 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 heaping teaspoon cinnamon
Handful of walnuts (That was because I still had some left from my fall stash)
3 tablespoons flax seeds
1 ½ cups milk
1 egg slightly beaten
The barque of srawberries (to taste)
2 tablespoons sweet butter (half in batter) half to cook pancakes.

Mix together and then ladled into fry pan. I like making mine silver dollar size.