My aunt, mother, and grandfather at my great-grandfathers house for christmas (1992)
Eggs, butter, milk, whisks, and pans fly around, seemingly with a mind of their own. Characters of people dance around the chaos, blinking sleep from their eyes. The youngins set the wooden table, the eldest stirs bacon in its warm bed, and my grandfather mixes his famous pancakes. Sunlight streams in on the collection of us through the cracked window, and you can smell Lake Ontario on the breeze. We’d spent the entire drive up to Kingston retelling stories about his trademark. The meal my family always stops to gather around. It took me fifteen years of summer rides past the rolling fields to finally answer the question of origins from my mother. The pancake recipe, so revered and respected, was stolen twice.
My grandmother grew up in a farmhouse out around with a beekeeper and blueberry fields. Her father would make pancakes for her and her sister. They tapped their maple trees and squeezed their own juice. His recipe came from the Purity Cookbook circa 1945. On the page in his scraggly handwriting remains imprinted, “The Good One”.
The recipe was stolen again when my grandfather met her father, and he started receiving invitations to those special Sunday breakfasts. Back then, young, he couldn’t cook much, and no one had the patience nor time to teach him. Slowly, over pancakes, a heist was plotted and pulled. My great-grandfather was a very good man. A gardener, father, and cook. He welcomed his copycat with open arms. My mother grew up with both the batches. She persists that the originals were better. I can’t believe her, to this day. My grandfather's pancakes are the best I’ve ever tasted and I don’t believe they could be beat. In the end, I think any recipe that connects four generations has to be a good one. -Kayla Nixon
My grandmother grew up in a farmhouse out around with a beekeeper and blueberry fields. Her father would make pancakes for her and her sister. They tapped their maple trees and squeezed their own juice. His recipe came from the Purity Cookbook circa 1945. On the page in his scraggly handwriting remains imprinted, “The Good One”.
The recipe was stolen again when my grandfather met her father, and he started receiving invitations to those special Sunday breakfasts. Back then, young, he couldn’t cook much, and no one had the patience nor time to teach him. Slowly, over pancakes, a heist was plotted and pulled. My great-grandfather was a very good man. A gardener, father, and cook. He welcomed his copycat with open arms. My mother grew up with both the batches. She persists that the originals were better. I can’t believe her, to this day. My grandfather's pancakes are the best I’ve ever tasted and I don’t believe they could be beat. In the end, I think any recipe that connects four generations has to be a good one. -Kayla Nixon
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Pancake Recipe:
Wet Ingredients: 1 Egg 1 ¼ Cup Milk ¼ Cup Butter (melted) Olive Oil (for the pan) Dry Ingredients: 2 Cups Flour 3 Teaspoons Baking Powder Pinch of Salt ¼ Cup Sugar Step 1: Stir together egg, milk, and butter in a large bowl. Set aside. Combine dry ingredients in another bowl. Step 2: Pour dry ingredients into the milk mixture. Stir to combine, but make sure to leave some clumps and bubbles. These are what make your pancakes fluffy! Step 3: Oil and heat up a pan on medium heat. When the pan is hot, pour in the batter using a little more than ¼ cup per pancake. Pancakes are ready to flip when the bubbles around their edges burst. Step 4: Serve & enjoy! Give pancakes to all your friends! 
My great-grandfather, Bruce Teskey with barrels of apples from his trees, sometime in the 1990s
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From left to right: My mother, aunt, and grandmother (Bruce Teskeys' daughter)
Bruce Teskeys' "chicken scratch" on a poem that he wrote (1984)
Thank you for reading! Make some pancakes today! -Kayla Nixon |