Sourdough

I went to the store today and one of the things I purchased was a loaf of sourdough bread.

I've been on a weekend sandwich kick. Deke isn't eating bread these days so I buy a loaf and I buy a cheap pack of beef salami and some extra sharp cheddar cheese, throw them together with a smear of mustard and wash it down with Diet Pepsi.

I've been helping teach a course in American Working Class Literature and all the reading we've been doing and the films we've watched have made me hungry for the sandwiches I used to carry to the Zinc Plant. These sandwiches were not made from sourdough bread, but the sourdough bread takes me to another part of my life in Kellogg.

I don't remember how Mom got going with it, but she either made or purchased sourdough starter. She kept it in the fridge and on the weekends, usually Sunday morning, Mom made sourdough pancakes.

Today when I bit into my beef salami, extra sharp cheddar cheese, and mustard sourdough sandwich, I suddenly was back at the kitchen table and it was before Sunday school and Mom was making sourdough pancakes. They might even have been buttermilk sourdough pancakes. That just popped in my head.

Mom made silver dollar pancakes on her an electric grill. I loved to butter them and pour Aunt Jemima syrup over them, or Mrs. Butterworth. I like the idea that I poured buttered syrup over buttered pancakes.

Silver dollar pancakes were fun because when I went to Sunday school I got a kick out of telling my friends or my Sunday school teacher that I had eaten a dozen pancakes for breakfast. I had also eaten sausage and eggs and had a couple or three glasses of milk.

Why I thought my pancake breakfast eating prowess was such a big deal, I don't know. I suppose I was always looking for a way to impress my friends and my Sunday school teacher.

I developed a love for sourdough. Sourdough is not only delicious, but it always transports me back to Sunday mornings, getting ready for Sunday school, and the pregame NFL show coming on the television. By the time I got home from church, it was often time to watch John Brodie, Abe Woodson, and the San Francisco 49ers, Dad's favorite team.

I don't remember the last time I ate sourdough pancakes. I'll have to eat some soon and take a trip back to those sweet Sunday mornings in Kellogg.