Wait! That’s not quite right.
It was an enormous thing of beauty, thin and crispy along the edges, moist and soft at the center. And the lingonberries were to die for.
I’m such a glutton for punishment; I mean a glutton for pancakes.
I still can’t believe I ate the whole thing!
Lynda made me do it!
Lynda set the bar years ago as the firstborn. She's never settled for mediocrity – no flapjacks for my BIG sister. No, she went for culinary connoisseur and ordered Swedish pancakes.
I had no idea the Swedes had such BIG appetites! But I digress.
It’s always been monkey see . . .
Three months ago, while dining at OPH for the first time with Lynda and her husband, Rod, Jimmy and I tackled the decadent baked concoction smothered with caramelized Granny Smith apples and a Sinkiang cinnamon glaze. I still remember the food coma following that deliciously decedant dessert mascarading as a pancake! Eat your heart out, Sweden!
Lynda always orders the Swedish pancakes when dining at OPH. Did she know something I didn't know/should know/need to know about Swedish pancakes? I couldn't take the chance.
I do know the tale of our dining experience, admittedly mostly monkey business, was as much about the past as it was the present. That past has always been a formidable lens, my BIG sister always a beautiful beacon of light and learning and love.
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