The very first breakfast Jackie ever cooked for me was some Tassajara Bread book pancakes. (They’re special because you beat the egg whites and fold them in, which makes the pancakes super light and fluffy.)
Jackie is away to attend a tapestry weaving workshop, so today I decided to make my own pancakes.
I hear the beating of the egg whites, and know that pancake time is approaching.
Jackie made pancakes for breakfast.
As we ate, I mentioned that I used to make pancakes when I was a single guy, but that I made them differently. And then I ran into difficulty when I tried to describe what I meant by “differently.” I was sure there were several things that were different, besides the fact that I made big pancakes, while she makes small pancakes (four at a time on the griddle), but I couldn’t quite remember.
And as I cogitated on that fact, I did a little mental arithmetic and realized that the ten years I’d been a single guy running my own household (from when I graduated from college in 1981 until 1991) would this year be matched twice over—I’ve now shared a household with Jackie for twenty years.
No wonder I no longer remember the details of just how I ran my kitchen differently. Time has passed.
