Flapjack Shot
I sort of feel like this
Flapjack Shot
Submitted by Jacy Wojcik
A hearty mixture of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and maple syrup. It tastes like when my grandpa used to make us pancakes when he was drunk. Only now I’m the one getting drunk. And there aren’t any pancakes.
The deep absence of pancakes.
Pancakes are so warm.
I worked in a commercial kitchen last summer dish-washing, I got to handle some very large and thick pancakes. When we were busing the tables we would tear large stacks in between our gloved fingers. I felt really guilty. There was so much waste.
When I was a little girl my dad would make us pancakes on Saturday mornings. He would make them in bazaar shapes that were somehow attached to the strange mythologies of my childhood. Martians and crickets. Sometimes they contained smashed candy bars when we didn’t have any chocolate chips, I never ate them but I loved to tell my friends about how weird and fantastic my dad was. When I think of it, I think of instructing my dad that my pancake was ready (I liked them sort of uncooked). I was sitting on the title counter. It was in the shape of a butterfly.
I do not think this has anything to do with the absence I feel. It is just a really nice memory. It is sort of making me feel better to think about.
Thanks for this. Really. Thanks.
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you: maybe that could be a kind of therapy, like warm stones
me: mmm pancake therapy
Comment by Matthew — May 24, 2007 #