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Buckwheat Pancakes

There are days when you wake up and you know your day won’t be complete if you don’t start it by watching one of Mel Brook’s films. If 20 years ago someone asked me, who would be an ideal husband for me, that would be a no brainer – Mel of course. Back then he was married to Ann Bancroft so I didn’t stand a chance but hey, what would we have in life without dreams???

There isn’t a single film I can pick as my favorite…But you should always watch one to start the day.

For various reasons, like random but witty references –  in ‘Spaceballs’: ‘Prepare for the metamorphosis, are you ready Kafka?’

Absurd: in’Producers’ – the whole idea of making a musical about a Hitler who’s gay. As one of the producers, Max put it:’ That’s exactly why we want to produce this play. To show the world the true Hitler, the Hitler you loved, the Hitler you knew, the Hitler with a song in his heart’.

Brilliant dialogs : in ‘Blazing Saddles’ – Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.  Taggart: Gol darnit Mr. Lamarr. You use your tongue prettier’n a twenty dollar whore.

I could go on forever. Also, I was brought up during communism, my reality at the time was absurd and incoherent. In a way Mel Brooks films with his own absurd way were bringing some comfort and understanding to my life. Not to mention that it’s a feast for any movie lover to watch his work, as he based his films on famous pictures and referred quite often to film history.

I remember my shock when I discovered Boyfriend never watched any of Mel’s films. We had a very quick and fruitful education…You can say ‘mala educacion’….

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To have as nourishing breakfast as the feast you get from Brooks’ films, you need buckwheat pancakes!

buckwheat pancakes

buckwheat pancakes

Buckwheat Pancakes

2 cups buckwheat flour

1 cup buttermilk

1 egg

1 mashed banana

pinch of salt

1 tbsp lemon zest

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1. Mix all the ingredients in a bowl. Grease a non-stick pan with coconut oil, fry pancakes in batches o both sides. Serve with berries and maple syrup.

buckwheat pancakes

buckwheat pancakes

 

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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