I’m thinking pancakes. It’s not my normal breakfast – most days I just scarf down some fruit and a cup of coffee. But pancakes have been calling to me lately. Perhaps it is a longing for simpler childhood days when Mom mixed up a batch of buttermilk batter and lured us out of bed with the delicious aroma of flapjacks sizzling on the griddle. Sometimes Mom threw in bananas or chocolate chips for variety. On occasion she got really creative and made pancakes with Mickey Mouse ears. Ah yes, my sisters and I were pancake gourmands. Or so I thought until I visited New England.

Quiet during the fall "leaf-peeping" season, the Sugar House roars to life every spring as the sap is boiled down to produce pure maple syrup
























































