On particularly lucky Saturdays, my dad would casually ask one of the greatest questions in the world: "who wants pancakes?"My brother and I? We wanted pancakes.I'm sure he didn't need a recipe, but I always insisted on standing on my tippy-toes to pull his torn copy of "The Fannie Farmer Cookbook" from our bookshelf. The page was bookmarked, decorated heavily with splatters of wayward batter
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