My son made me pancakes for dinner tonight.
I was feeling a little under the weather (it was really just an excuse for being lazy), and so my eldest son made me bacon and pancakes and brought them to me on a tray to eat in bed.
Frankly, I was surprised as all get-out! There are days when the Covid restrictions get to us all, and he and I have recently been like ships passing in the night. There’s just too much ‘togetherness.’ The offer itself seemed to be an olive branch—not exactly the white flag I was looking for, but it would do.
Now, I’m not a lover of pancakes or bread, and since trying to avoid most gluten, that generally includes anything made with flour. But just like the mother of a child who makes overcooked eggs and burned toast, I was prepared to eat them. And like it.
He’s really a good cook, even though he is highly picky about cutting off fat and making sure nothing is pink inside of any meat. He lowers the temperature on cooking instructions and bakes things maddeningly slow. But if he’s eating, he’s entitled to do it any way he likes.
So I picked up the fork and took a bite. Honestly, they tasted just like every other pancake I’ve had in my life—I always think of them as cooked library paste. But I took a second bite and then a bit of bacon. It was delicious, and as I chewed, I noticed… and remembered.
There was something really tasty in it that had nothing to do with flavor. In my mind’s eye, I heard my mother’s voice talking to me: You cooked this with love, didn’t you? I can tell.
Mom had a sixth sense. I don’t know about the eyes in the back of her head, but she sure could tell when something was done out of obligation, anger or love. She was like a radar detector and picked up vibrations in the air. She was able to walk into an empty room and ‘feel’ what had taken place there before her arrival.
I realized what I was savoring was the love he poured into making that meal. It surprised me more than a little, and when he returned to retrieve the tray, I said to him what my Mum had said to me.
He can often be gruff and usually shakes off any kind of compliment, but he did a double-take when he looked at me.
Was it my imagination? Or did he smile?
Love, the magic seasoning. Use liberally. You can’t use too much.