Sunday Morning

It's getting late. Time to decide what tomorrow holds. Sunday mornings have been very rushed lately. I decide tomorrow will be different. Breakfast is usually the first thing that happens in the morning so maybe I should start with that. My favorite breakfast food goes way back to when I was little. Countless times I sat in my Nan's kitchen and watched her make me crepes. My brother called them crappers because he didn't like them until he got older. I loved watching her make them. She would tell me every time that she had a secret recipe passed on to her by her grandmother when they lived in Belgium. They are traditional and delicious. They carry with them heritage. I remember wanting to help my Nan make them. She would let me. We would get out my special stool and I would stand on it with a huge smile across my face. She would steady my hands as I scraped the extra flour out of the measuring cup and hold the bowl for me so I could stir without it wobbling. She would even let me put the secret ingredient in. After I put the butter in the pan and twisted t it around, making the pan sizzle is my favorite part. Pouring the batter in was easy, but flipping the crepes and keeping them in their perfect thin, golden, and round loveliness was the hard part. I would make these for breakfast every time I went to visit her. When we moved away I slowly forgot about the crepes until one day I had friends over and we were going to have pancakes, but were out of batter. I made them crapes just like I did with my Nan.

All that reminiscing convinced me to make them again. It's been a while. Mmmm Nan's crepes. I have to remind myself before I go to sleep that I need to make the batter so it can sit overnight. I tiptoe down to the kitchen and put all the ingredients together. My only light source is from the pantry. I do not always make them this peculiar way, don't worry. It just so happens that I want to surprise my family in the morning by cooking them breakfast. That will make tomorrow special by throwing off the usual morning routine. All of us Hamiltons love crepes, but I am the only one who makes them because I am the only one who has the secret recipe. So with the pantry light and a little assistance from the moonlight, I mix the batter up. I hum to myself as I add in the bowl of flour, sugar, and salt to the other bowl of eggs, milk, and butter. I mix all that up and keep humming away. I don't even know what the name of the song is that I'm humming. I'm just happy and enjoying myself. I reach for the secret ingredient. Of course I'm not tall enough. I have to stand on top of the chair to get it. I knew that. I guess I thought maybe I grew a few feet since the last time I made these. I add the secret stuff and mix it in. They are done until morning. I sneak back upstairs with a new giddy-ness in my step.

In the morning, I wake up with the sun and repeat the familiar process of forming perfect golden-brown crepes. I enjoy the stillness of the morning along with the wonderful kitchen noises that we humans find so comforting like the sizzling noise the batter makes when it meets the butter, the triumphant sound of a plate hitting marble as it waits for the meal to be placed on it, and the gentle clamor of forks piled up on the wooden table. I have a wonderful idea. I smell the crepes as the stack becomes higher and higher and my stomach agrees that it's time to eat. I think back to when I was little and how badly I wanted to be able to flip them. I always told my Nan I'd be able to do that when I was all growed up. I slip three in a row with ease. Maybe I am all growed up. This thought is bitter-sweet, but reminds me that I want to teach my future grandchildren how to make these crepes too so they can strive to become expert flippers too. I start the coffee, I know the sound of the grinder starting and the smell of fresh coffee will wake my parents up. Sure enough the come in the kitchen sleepy-eyed but with smiles. Maybe I should make some bacon. That always works for my brother. Soon, we will all be enjoying a beautiful Sunday morning all thanks to my Nan's crepes.