Rorschach Test Pancakes

Look into my griddle....what do YOU see? Oh my, the giggles around here for this breakfast-for-dinner. For as many years as I've been making pancakes, for some reason or other, the first pancake is always the weird one and becomes a sacrifce to the pancake gods (a.k.a. drooling Corgis.) As soon as I ladled this one onto the hot griddle, it became completely clear to me that it was the profile of George Washington. Yes! Truly, George Washington I tell you! By the time someone answered my pleas of 'someone get the camera!' poor George had morphed and spread as he cooked. Of course Laura was laughing so hard that she could hardly hold the camera steady, hence the blurry image. Use your imagination....start at the handle..the left side of the pancake. See? His chin, lip, nose, brow, all of it going right around to his hair and neck? I know you can see it. Let me tell you about this griddle...it belonged to my grandfather and it is one of my prized possessions. We don't seem to have diamonds and jewels to hand down in our family...cast iron griddles, yeah, we're all about those. There are so many memories attached to this griddle. My Grandpa made the best pancakes. Always at 5:30 AM, always as big as a plate, always while wearing a short sleeved button down, pressed sleeve shirt with casual pants and black tie shoes. It was the only thing he ever cooked. My Grandmother usually did all of the cooking. He even had a 'notch' he made on the stove to know where to turn the gas knob to the perfect setting. When I would sleep over there, he would wake me up by opening up the wide slat Venetian blinds and squeezing my big toe and singing something like, 'Does your mother know you're out Cecilia' or 'MaryLou, I love you' or 'If you drool just like pasta fazool, that's amore' or a Jimmy Durante imitation of 'Ink-a-dink-a-doo.' It meant breakfast was on the table. How I miss them both; but I'm so grateful for the memories I hold in my heart and that have been created by this old pancake griddle. -CS ^..^