• Who: Eric and Dan
• Where: Just around the corner from our apartment on 13th St
• What: Blueberry buckwheat flaxseed almondmeal wholesome pancakes

Eric is the kind of chef who doesn’t skimp. When he offers you something, you know it’s going to be made with only the farm freshest ingredients, most likely purchased that day at an outdoor market or harvested directly from his garden (see photo above—garden is behind table). What’s the point of making anything that’s not made from wholewheat, pesticide-free, hand picked, full fat, organic, unprocessed primo components? You might as well just not eat.

Eric is also the kind of chef who take his craft very seriously. After decades (decades!) of sharpening his skills and honing in on his technique, Eric has devised a number of unique, intensely protected recipes that he has perfected over his many long years in the kitchen. And since Eric is old, this is a LOT of years in the kitchen. An avid reader of Cooks Illustrated, which requires a subscription, Eric will make the same item over and over again, tinkering with that last pinch of salt or hint of lemon zest to make it absolutely perfect (ex. Eric’s homemade granola, which he brings into work every single day in a pre-measured 1/2 cup serving). And once he’s got it the way he likes, that baby is locked up like Fort Knox—there’s no chance in hell he’s going to tell you his magic secret.

That is what we encountered at Eric’s on Sunday—a time tested, intricate, made-with-love recipe for blueberry pancakes like nothing you’d ever come across before. Everything from the pancakes’ size, texture, fluffiness, chewiness and elasticity had been carefully monitored, and that’s not even taking into account their exquisitely executed taste, where every chew brings out the flavor of a different hearty grain. Each blueberry handpicked and selected, the syrup heated to the perfect temperature and the pancakes displayed in such a way as to not lose their density, dignity or integrity. A true work of art.

A lot of our grandmas have recipes like that, too. We all remember those special brownies we used to get after our nap, or the cranberry sauce we looked forward to every Thanksgiving. Grandma told us that these were family secrets brought over on a boat to Ellis Island from the old country, and that if she told anyone what made her specialties so special, we might get sent back! There must be some INTENSE stuff in there if even a word about her magic process could lead to deportation!!!  Don’t mess with Grandma!

It’s only now that our grandmas have sadly started to pass on and we’re making our own brownies and cranberry sauce that we slowly realize exactly where Grandma got her secret recipes. It’s not that we were trying to figure it out—in fact, just the opposite, since clearly there is no way we ever emulate the culinary masterpieces from our childhood.  For most of us who are not Eric, it’s not even worth it to try, which is why we go by what we think is the opposite route: following the basic instructions that come on the the package. And who would have guessed—IT TASTES JUST LIKE GRANDMA’S!!!!!!! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!?!?! This comes to us as a bittersweet realization. So maybe Grandma wasn’t the top chef master we knew her to be. Who can blame her?? She raised 19 kids during the depression! Who had time to cook??  It’s still a teeny bit disappointing, though, to realize that Grandma was just as corner-cutting in the kitchen as the rest of us, and that all those top secret recipes were really from the back of the cornmeal. On the other hand, it’s nice to know that Grandma and her cooking are still there on all those big family occasions, tasting just as good as we remember.  And she’s definitely still there for a chocolate chip (toll house) brownie after naptime is over.

I’m just waiting for the moment when we find out that Eric really got his pancake recipe off the back of the bisquick box, too.