I just finished reading your June issue.
I was born in 1931. I grew up during World War II. I got a kick out of the column about pancakes on Page 23 (“Cooking at 43° North: Hold the butter and syrup”). During WWII, food rationing was something for American housewives to contend with. Many staples were rationed, including meat and sugar.
My mother came up with a novel idea for a supper dish. She made pancakes, dumped a can of corn into the batter and called them corn fritters. She served them one night. My father, being a meat-and-potatoes guy, gagged, but my brother and I loved them.
In the spring of 1945, the war ended, as did rationing. A couple of months later, my brother and I realized we were not getting corn fritters anymore. We questioned my mother and she replied that since the war and rationing were both over, there was no need for the corn fritters. We cried and made her promise to make the fritters again, which she did, several times. My father, however, never ate one again.
Frank Barbieri, Portland
