"its pancake day,
its pancake day,
-cbc Radio 2 host, Pete Morey
As i started to write this post, i realized it certainly is not the first time i have written about pancakes:
- in an early (2nd post!) illustration of my loving and devoted relationship with breakfast
- as my choice griddle cake
-as a hangover cure, drenched in maple syrup and granulated sugar
- mentioned half-hazardly here
- enlisted as a reminder of pleasure
- to justify my side of a silly argument
I found too, unpublished pancake posts, most likely written in haste on my way out the door so i wouldnt forget, or late at night when details equal minutes less of sleep so left for later and never gotten to. In short, they detail my fondness for "hippy" pancakes--whole wheat pastry, even quinoa flour, versus traditional white buttermilk; the lesson i offered to a stubborn schoolmate/co-worker/"boss" in whipping egg whites seperately for fluffiness; a fiasco of a story involving a shattered coffee press and subsequent eyelid burn and botched stack (i ate them anyways); a seemingly profound re-discovery of ricotta hotcakes (it was long ago, but judging by the number of exclamation marks in my notes, they were pretty tasty and i was a little bit sugar buzzed).
I find it quite funny that i have written so much about them, as i rarely eat them. There is usually a batch at Christmas time, the occasional summertime Sunday when i dont have a farm to run off to at 5am and there are raspberries or peaches begging to be heaped on top, always when my sister and i visit eachother, but are barely a once- a- month treat, let alone regular occurence. That said, it is quite obvious my fondness for them, how special, for a reason i am yet to pinpoint. For example, I have special syrup for my sister in my fridge for when she comes to visit, because the nutter doesnt like maple; this time last year, my ma called my just to remind me of the holiday; i regularly pin pancake pics to my Pinterest page (say that ten times fast) despite that, essentially, they are not much more than brown, somewhat warbly circles. Very attractive brown warbly circles. And tasty.
I hope today you had a stack of brown warbly circles in celebration of Shrove Tuesday (or Fat Tuesday if you are in New Orleans), if not for breakfast, tonight for dinner; with maple syrup, or blueberrys, maybe jam, or like, me, smeared with lemon curd and honey.
Which brings me to my new note on pancakes (you would think i would have said it all by now), is that everytime i make them i think of a gal i used to work with. When her parents moved from France to Canada, her mom had a hard time embracing the thick Canadian pancakes when making crepes was ingrained in her. The best she could do for her daughters new culture cravings was a sorta thick, pan sized cake, served French style: sprinkled with lemon juice and granulated sugar (ahh, not just for hangovers). That image to me, was so simple and lovely, while, admittedly absurd, and for the longest time i wanted to but didnt try it. When i did, it was a different pancake experience: less soggy, less cloyingly sweet, not the same sort of comfort food as the mapley sort, but...as lovely as i had imagined. I still think of that when making pancakes; in fact it is usually the lemon idea that starts a craving. In a revelatory way, i would say, curd has become my favoured topping...at least this holiday, and this pancake post.