My lovely little sister has a blog about her life and the amazing food she cooks. My favorite posts are always about her versions of food we ate as kids. It is always so fun to see how her memories compare to my own. (She originally posted this recipe on her blog.)
They are actually called Screaming Pancakes at our house. For the longest time, I thought that was the official name and someday restaurants would sell my favorite Screaming Pancakes. My dad would stand over the hot pancake griddle and, using the spatula, would press hard on the pancakes until they made a squealing sound. I loved it. I remember sitting with both elbows on the counter, my chin cupped in my hands watching my dad spread around the batter, making the perfect circle.