My Mother’s Blintzes
By Gene Aronowitz
I have never found and may never find
any blintzes like those made by
my mother. They were all
the same size, six inches long,
and she lovingly laid each of them
in a well-worn frying pan fifteen
seconds apart and allowed them
to sway with the sound of the sizzle
that reminded me of the soft summer
rain on the hot metal roof of the garage
across the street. And then she turned
them over fifteen seconds apart so each
serving would possess the same measure
of glistening gold from its bath in butter.
Inside this pancake-like packaging
was a most delectable mixture of
fully integrated creamy cheeses.
When perfectly prepared,
she placed these tasty
siblings precisely side by side
on a platter and atop of each,
spread a tangy-tart-tasting sweep
of sour cream. I’ll never forget
the tender, nourishing, warming
and cooling impression I got when I
filled my receptive mouth
with this scrumptious
collaboration of
tastes.
