It’s bittersweet to watch your kids grow up. It amazes you how that little kid could have become so gosh-darn adult in what seems like a short time. But you die a little bit inside when that same kid starts to lose touch with his, her or their childhood.
I couldn’t allow myself to throw out my son’s superhero posters when he took them down from the bedroom walls. They sit in our basement, waiting for the day when maybe he’ll remember when he thought Iron Man was a) real and b) way cooler than his mom and dad. Maybe one day he’ll go downstairs and once again fiddle about with the Lego Death Star he once declared was the greatest Christmas present ever.
So, I’m thankful for anything that makes my son stop being so cool and 16, even for a few minutes.
And this is where the Blueberry Strawberry Cheesecake French Toast from St. Albert’s venerable Socrates Restaurant comes in. I usually review food that I order for myself. But this past weekend was different. If there is anything watching Anthony Bourdain taught me, it’s that food journalism isn’t just about what’s on the plate, it’s about the emotions and conversations that are shared over the meal.
My son was done his baseball workout and asked if we could go for a “snack” (which is teenage-boy code for at least a three-course meal). I suggested the Socrates, St. Albert’s famed diner. It was nearby and it was time for brunch.
Of course we waited for a table; the Socrates is an institution, after all. But, once we sat down, Tate knew what he wanted, the French toast stack slathered in a cream cheese sauce and covered with enough berries to stock a decent grocery’s store produce section.
And, as I saw him smile and hunker down, I was reminded of the little kid that used to sit in the shopping cart and try to reach out to grab strawberries out of their clamshells — the one who clapped his hands when a bowl of berries was presented to him. Maybe the Lego lover is still inside there, too, somewhere.