pancake

We are not so much what we eat, but what we remember we have eaten.  When I was five years old, I walked in my grandmother’s front door one Saturday morning and smelled the most delicious smells coming from her kitchen. She called me to the room with those enticing aromas and placed a plate of ‘haemul pajeon’ in front of me. Then she told me to eat quickly or else it would get cold. The way the pancake disappeared in my mouth as... Share this: Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email More Print (Opens in new window) Print Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr