When i was a little girl, my mom would make pancakes every morning. My siblings and I would watch her, preparing the batter on our dining table, turn on the stove, place our old frying pan on it, wait for it to heat up, melt the butter in it (which made a yummy aroma all over the house) , then she takes a soup laddle , get laddle full of batter, then slowly pours it on the pan making a perfect pancake circle. As little children, we get so curious, asking our mom "how will you know when it's ready to be turned over?" our mom, smiled and said "wait for the bubbles to come out, and that's when you'll know. " After that, we all wanted to try making it, which made me and the kitchen connected.
My mom, is a great baker, a traditional one in fact. Taught by a woman who made our parents wedding cake, my mom made it into a home business. I would watch her bake cakes, cookies, pies, brownies, and a lot more. During our elementary years, we would be selling our mom's home made crinkles at school. She would give me and my sister a bag each to sell (and my mom's crinkles were a hit). Over the years, I would ask my mom to help her (like a little apprentice) whenever she makes them, until one day I was the one baking them too.. I enjoyed it and loved it, and days passed, she would teach me how to bake all her goodies. This is when i started to realize that this is my passion. I would always browse my mom's black journal full of her handwritten recipes which was almost the same age as mine. (and still is in tact on this day) Wide-eyed and full of curiosity, I always felt excited whenever she would bake and make pancakes.
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