Pancakes....ah, that brings back memories.

When I was young, my father would occasionally make pancakes using his special recipe - into the mix he would mash up a very ripe banana and we would have deliciously sweet banana pancakes for a weekend breakfast.

But he knew my particular quirk: instead of pancakes, for me it was pancake - singular. Yep, he would pour out one very large pancake on the griddle, and that was my breakfast. One very large pancake, nearly the size of a dinner plate!

My dad wasn't much of a talker (unless you asked him a direct question), and I always wondered why he seemed to really know his way around a kitchen. I found out after his death (from my aunt, his younger sister) that after he was drafted into the army (World War II), he went to cooking school. During his lifetime, he never breathed a word of it. Can't, for the life of me, figure out why...

Guess I inherited more than a few things from him! wink

Signor V.

"For me, there's only my wife..."

"Sure I cook with wine - sometimes I even add it to the food!"

"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?"

"It was a grass harp... And we listened."

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?"

"No. Saints and poets, maybe... they do some."