When I was a kid, we lived in Europe and every Thanksgiving and Christmas my mom would make Apple Pfannkuchen. There is no special reason why she made it on the Holiday holidays. She just did.
When Shoes and I started dating seriously, I began making it for him. We don't have a lot of family traditions. I'm not that close with my family. Sharing this with him was a big deal.
This year, I made it again on Thanksgiving and again on Christmas. Shoes, who is not a breakfast sweet eater, partook enthusiastically.
But Shoes did something almost blasphemous. This year, he unceremoniously dumped a healthy pile of Redi Whip on his.
I don't have many traditions, and one of the ones I do have, he Redi Whipped all over.
I gave him the eye.
He said, "What? Is that ok?"
And what was I going to say? No?
After many glances of stink eye, I took a forkful of his to prove him how wrong he was.
Turns out, the Redi Whip made it even more delicious.
So that's how this tradition changes for us.
That's how it became ours. Kind of the same as my mom's. But kind of different.
This year, in October, I found out that my mom had gotten the "European" recipe we ate in Europe from an American 1983 Kitchen Aid recipe booklet.
This bring this truth home: We make our own family traditions. Apple pancakes, in and of themselves, are just a dish. A bunch of pastry, capable, in itself, of doing nothing.
We decide what's meaningful to us and what we want to carry forth.
Every year Shoes and I are together, we make new decisions about what we want to carry forth.
Next year, I'll make sure to have the Redi Whip on hand.
Also, in other December related news:
ROSIE PASSED BASIC DOG OBEDIENCE AND HAS BEEN APPROVED TO TAKE GOOD CANINE CITIZEN CLASS IN FEBRUARY!
Good job, my dog!