Before there was IHOP, there was Gwynn’s.
When I was a kid in suburban Teaneck, New Jersey, it was always a treat to go for Sunday brunch with my family at Gwynn’s on Teaneck Road. Gwynn’s seemed swanky and grown-up to me. Outside, it was painted white brick, and inside it was cool and darkish, with comfy booths. My mother would order her coffee, and the cream came in tiny, glass pitchers with little round cardboard pull-tabs on top. She only used a drop and then gave me the supreme pleasure of letting me drink the rest of the cream from its miniature jar. Sometimes, if she had a second cup, I got another taste of the thick, heavenly liquid that would contribute to the need for Lipitor years later. Compared to my very picky little sister, who ate only cream cheese and jelly, I was “a good eater” with a passion for pancakes, waffles and French toast.
Then, in the mid 60’s, across town on Cedar Lane, a new place opened up, part of a chain that seemed to be popping up all over America: the International House of Pancakes. People were talking about it, and my cousins three towns away had already been to another one and were jazzed. It didn’t have Gwynn’s sophistication or my beloved mini-pots of cream, but on our first visit, I discovered silver dollar pancakes – a plateful of glorious, child-sized, golden ducats. I was hooked! Soon thereafter, chocolate chip pancakes appeared on the menu, and I became an under-age chocoholic.
Breakfast
Breakfast
Irresistible Sweet Rolls
The following is an excerpt from "Siren's Feast: An Edible Odyssey" by Nancy Mehagian, a culinary memoir that captures a colorful era and features over 40 traditional Armenian and vegetarian recipes...
When I was growing up nobody talked about dysfunctional families, so it took me a while to realize how fortunate I was to have the parents I had. They never argued in front of us and truly seemed to enjoy life and each other. My brother and I were rarely left behind on trips, including seeing the Folies Bergères when it first came to Las Vegas. I have to admit my childhood was somewhat idyllic. Perhaps too idyllic.
French Toast at 4
It’s 4 o’clock on Sunday afternoon, and like any well-adjusted
twentysomething, I’m eating breakfast. More specifically, I’m having
brioche french toast and cappuccino at the Little Next Door on 3rd with
my friend Gloria. After living in LA for six months, I have determined
that breakfast in the afternoon is exactly the sort of reckless
behavior Sundays demand.
Typically in New York, Sundays amounted to consumption of greasy brunch
complemented by mimosas and black coffee. Following brunch was an
inevitable headache, followed by more consumption in the form of
excessive window-shopping, followed by an indulgent nap upon what
appeared to be a laundry pile, but was in fact my bed.
Puff the Magic Pancakes
From the LA Times
I could tell you I love them because they're so easy to make — who doesn't love a dish that comes together in less than half an hour? Or I could say it's because of their delicate texture and flavor — light and airy, but rich and almost nutty to the taste, it's like biting into a delicious cloud.
But honestly? The reason I love these pancakes is because of the way they puff in the oven. They're downright fun to watch.
Call them what you will — Dutch babies, German pancakes, Dutch puffs — they're all about the souffle factor. They're kind of like Yorkshire puddings or popovers, but supersized. Mix together a few ingredients and pour the batter into a hot buttered skillet, then put it in the oven and watch it swell. In minutes, these babies may puff to more than five times their original size.
It's magical. Serve them quickly; like a souffle, the magic begins to deflate once they're out of the oven.
Waffles on weekends
(from the Los Angeles Times)
Russ Parsons wrote this really great thing in the LA Times about waffles – here’s a tiny bit of it.
I’ve got a thing for waffles.
For me, there is no better treat on a Saturday or Sunday morning. I don’t care whether the rest of my time is spent balancing checkbooks and cleaning out the garage, but as long as I’ve had waffles, it’s been a good weekend.
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Turkey-Butternut Tortilla Soup with Zesty Lime Sour Cream
For the soup:
3 cups cooked turkey, shredded
1 butternut squash
1¼ cups onion
1 cup corn
4 garlic cloves
1 jalapeno
3 Tablespoons olive oil
3 corn tortillas
2 cups tomatoes
3 Tablespoons tomato paste
1 Tablespoon ground cumin
6 cups chicken broth
6 ounces spinach
Salt and pepper to tasteFor the sour cream:
½ cup sour cream
1 Tablespoon lime juice
Zest of one lime
¼ teaspoon ground cumin
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