Last night I had my surrogate mom (my best friend’s mom…mine passed away years ago…sigh), her mother, and her brother over for dinner (wife’s birthday, Happy Birthday J-Lo!). What started as some simple mass cooking in the morning to carry us through the day quickly turned into my very own little proving grounds (grandma is a notoriously tough critic). With their being Irish and all, I decided on deep fried meat stuffed pastries (empanadas), spanish rice (a reliable hit), and what I like to call “sun-chips,” fried plantains, a potato-like banana sliced and flattened into chips. Grandma enjoyed everything very much, especially the empanadas, but described the chips as bizarre. Not satisfied, I decided to finish the night with a bang: home-made apple pancakes with hot-off-the oven candied raisin/apple/walnut syrup topped with a generous a dollop of freshly whipped cream. Verdict?
THEY LOVED IT!
I took a risk with a tough critic and knocked it out of the park. Woot.
The Dead Don’t Cry is my literary risk. It’s my four year home-made pancake, and I want the toughest critics to give it a taste. Does the time spent on it validate anything? No, because if I really spent that much time cooking a pancake, I’d end up with a charred, disgusting mess. But I believe the passion counts for something. So here’s hoping I find some book starved grandmas out there!
PS. I really should start photographing my culinary concoctions…the attached pic does not do dessert justice.