Grandma always tested the hotness, the readiness
Of the pan with a flick of water or a tiny dollop of
Pancake batter that sizzled and helped her decide
To turn the flame down a bit or up ever so slightly
When the world’s smallest pancake had done its job
She would ask if the world’s best girl wanted a golden
Appetizer with a job that had been second to none
Preparing the way for all the tender melt in your mouth
Morsels of delectability, butter and maple cascading
Down the side in scrumptious playfulness that made
The viewing as delicious as the enjoyment of the taste

I asked her in my twenties when home to be married
Why after all these years did she still test the heat of
A pan she knew full well was perfectly ready for creating
The pancakes she had made thousands of times while
So many of us in her kitchen watched, waited with her
She laughed, It’s all in the sizzle. If you lose the desire to
Make sure you have a pan that sizzles just right, then
No matter what you try to bring together over the heat
Will not be guaranteed a sturdy amber shell fit to properly
Hold the steamy tenderness that only comes from hearing
On even the ugliest of days, that lovely snap, crackle and pop