Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers, and all you sons and daughters too. Because Mother's Day is a day to honor our mothers, sure– but it's also a time for all us sons and daughters to pause and reflect. So that's what I have for you today, culinary reflections on my mother. In fact, starting today I have 7 posts in a row. A week's worth of reflections and recipes from my mother: Judi Jo Ann Bond Henry.

The 1970’s were when my own awareness of food began to develop. My mother was a fantastic cook. She probably learned most of her skills during this same period and I’d bet that Julia Child, Simone Beck and the whole Mastering the Art of French Cooking craze were her primary sources of inspiration.

While other kids were scarfing down “Tuna Twist”, “Mug-O-Lunch” and “Shake-A-Puddin”, my mom was serving us Bouillabaisse, Duck a la Orange, and Mousse de Foies de Volaille. She even taught my little brother and me how to make perfect little crêpes so that she could have 2 or 3 pans going at once for her famous dinner parties!

I recall bringing celeriac rémoulade to school in my lunch box. I knew the difference between a béarnaise and a hollandaise. We did not eat meat cooked beyond medium-rare (even pork) ever! So in many ways, you see, these are my comfort foods.

Pancake. The word paints quite a picture. But what kind of picture may say something about where you live and eat.

So when I say pancake do you think of Sunday morning? Does your mind automatically go to maple syrup? Maybe blueberries?

If you just licked your lips and nodded ‘yes' then there is a good chance you are from North America or very well acquainted with our pancake culture. Because steaming stacks of hotcakes dripping with syrup and melted butter does indeed conjure up comfortable memories of hearth and home.

But traditional pancakes don’t need to be homemade to be homey. Nor do they need to be American.

In fact the griddlecake we Americans so associate with special breakfasts probably has its roots in a similarly prepared Scottish pancake.