A dessert that's filled with love power
I've been eating thin, lacy pancakes the size of a dinner plate since I was a toddler. Although some would call them French crepes, in our house, they were Hungarian palacsinta.
On palacsinta days, the kitchen would be perfumed with the fragrance of vanilla and sugar. It was a familiar smell that would be a call to the kitchen, usually for breakfast, but sometimes for lunch or supper.
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