My brothers and I all have our ways of demonstrating love for Dad. And right now Dad can use all the TLC he can get.
My brother, Dean, whipped up a batch of one of Dad’s favorite confections this morning: buckwheat pancakes.
My kitchen smells like stale beer the morning after a fraternity party. These grainy pancakes, tasting of yeast and looking like dirt, are an obsession that escapes me. “It’s an acquired taste,” Dean says. I guess.
I may dislike the smell and hate the taste, but I love these little rituals that my brothers bring with them when he visit. Dad eats it up. Literally.
The Henry Chronicles 
Mmmm, pancakes, love ’em, though I don’t think I’ve ever had buckwheat pancakes, though used to eat Buck Wheat cereal years ago.
This morning I did something delish for my breakfast. Took the last 2 eggs, cracked them into a bowl, added a bit of thyme, dill, cracked pepper, a pinch of salt, a pinch of shredded parm cheese, and a splash of whipping cream, and made scrambled eggs.
For toast, it was 2 slices of deli rye from the freezer, buttered with REAL butter and toasted in the oven like Mom would do – and had it with the last of my morning coffee.
I need to do something like this one weekend soon.