Few things make me miss North Carolina more than bluegrass music. Combine that with sweet potato pancakes a la Asheville’s Tupelo Honey Cafe, as I’m doing right now, and you’ve got a real nostalgia party on your hands.
The last time I ate pancakes was just a few weeks ago in a log cabin set in the middle of the woods of beautiful Floyd, VA. Post-Floydfest with about ten other twenty-somethings, we gathered around the table and enjoyed the hospitality of the parents my of best friend from college.
Some of us were still caked with mud from the festival. My knees ached and wrists actually hurt from all the clapping and dancing we’d done.
The night before we’d all slept in the cabin, sprawled out across couches and floors after a summer bonfire complete with s’mores.
After a few nights of camping and several days of porta-potties, we were disheveled but full of music, glad to laugh and sing and sit in that gorgeous log home and eat pancakes together.
Somehow, sourdough pancakes and green beans have never tasted so good.