Okay this might be a wee bit tenuous in terms of sconology. This post is actually about pancakes, Scotch pancakes to be precise or as they are sometimes known in Scotland ‘drop scones’. That, together with the fact that we are all still incarcerated in our homes and cannot get out for proper scones is our excuse for this post. Tuesday last was Shrove Tuesday and traditionally that is Pancake Day. For most of England and indeed the rest of the world this involves a celebration where large thin pancakes are made in a frying pan and tossed to prevent them burning. Some places even have pancake races whereby a number of competitors run along a street tossing their hot pancakes as they go. In Scotland, of course, we don’t indulge in that sort of nonsense. Scotch pancakes are an altogether different animal.
- 220 g Self Raising Flour • Pinch Salt •50 g Caster Sugar
- 2 Free-range Eggs •280 ml Milk •1 tsp golden syrup
In the past, Shrove Tuesday was the last opportunity to use up fats and eggs before the start of Lent. Hardly necessary for us but we decided to celebrate anyway by making some pancakes of our own. There was more than little encouragement from the two mini Vikings who helped us in the skillingsboller post. They love granny’s pancakes!
Indeed, Granny’s pancakes are something of a phenomena. She creates enough pancake mixture to make at least twenty to thirty pancakes but by the time she’s finished there is not a trace. Every single last panake has vanished. All that’s left is dirty dishes. It’s one of life’s great mysteries.
Betrayal
My mother was great at making pancakes and when we lived in Ireland she gave Pat her recipe. It never worked in spite of multiple efforts. They were always pale insipid affairs. It wasn’t until we were at my mother’s house here in Falkirk that Pat noticed her adding a teaspoon of syrup. “What’s that?” she cried. “That’s the syrup” said mum, “You can’t make pancakes without a little syrup!” “But that’s not in the recipe you gave me”, Pat exclaimed. To her dying day mum protested her innocence but was never allowed to forget it.
Anyway, the mini-Vikings made me this one. It was fabby dab!
Perseverance
The wonders of pancake making are only matched, perhaps, by the wonders of landing a spacecraft on Mars. A journey of seven months across thirty eight million miles and managing to land this thing with pinpoint accuracy has to be some sort of miracle. Our mini-Vikings assumed that there had to be someone steering it and were completely mystified when told that it was unmanned. It did, however, allow me to explain all the mathematical formulae involved in such a project. Joking, of course, but I think they did come to realise that maths can be quite important. One small step for mankind! Mind you, the success of NASA’s Perseverance mission does make you wonder if there are not some more pressing problems back here on Earth.
Pat and I have both had our vaccinations as have all our friends so we are hoping it won’t be too long now before scone adventures can resume. Fingers crossed!
