Sunday, 29 April 2012

Aunt Jemima in all her glory

Currently reading: Contact by Carl Sagan
Currently listening to: the rain falling against the window
Current weather conditions: Rain.

Strolling through the American food shop in Chapel Walk in Sheffield, I happened across a happy red box of goodness that of course I had to buy.

                                                        Ahh... Aunt Jemima.  The original.

And, yes, this morning, I decided to get out the old frying pan, some of that (naughty, naughty) butter, and the ever-ready spatula, to create... PANCAKES!!

I just can't get over how great Aunt Jemima pancakes are. They really are the best. They took me back to pancake batter-covered memories of sleepovers and wearing pjs all day and reciting stories from Goosebumps by R.L. Stine and comparing the colors on mood rings and making friendship bracelets, one and then another and then another, in an assortment of designs and colors to suit every eventuality: pastels and neons and berry-licious reds.

I find that our senses really inform us who we are, and what our most powerful memories are. Especially smell (the smell of butterized, slightly undercooked, first-try pancakes) and taste (a little triangle-bite of warm, fluffy, syrup-soaked Aunt Jemima pancake goodness).  This morning I ate while cooking, and took a bite as I flipped another pancake. I was no longer a twenty-something Media Sales Agent standing in her pjs in the kitchen of her mortgaged house in Doncaster, South Yorkshire, England. I was transported back, by that smell and taste, to my mother's kitchen in Hancock County, central Indiana, and she's saying this to me:

"Now wait for the bubbles, and see around the edges how it's gone a little dry? That's when you know it's time to flip."

It was the messed-up hair and the giggle of my sleepover friend. It was being eight years old on a Sunday morning, after a night of stories and bracelets and dreams. I had never been a patient child, but what I learned in the kitchen on those mornings, making pancakes for breakfast (with the coffee maker ticking and chugging in the background), was something that would stay with me for a long, long time. I was just patient enough to make a perfect pancake.

And oh my, that was a sight to behold.

If you're a writer, or a painter, or musician, or sculptor, or dreamer or dancer: there are so many things that can bring ideas to life. I recommend Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix.

Happy Sunday, all!


  1. Be round in the morning for mine with lots of Maple syrup. xx

    1. LOL oh we have Maple syrup aplenty! Mmmmm pancake goodness.... x x x x