Pancake Sunday

Before I launch properly into this week's post, I am aware that I promised my yeasty malt and raisin bread recipe this week, but (irritating perfectionist that I am), I've decided that the already quite delicious recipe still needs a bit of tweaking. That tweaking is planned for later this week, so hopefully the recipe will be ready for its encore next week.

Now, on to Lent. My most vivid memories of Lent as a child are, not surprisingly, of giving up something - sugar on my breakfast cereal (an effective one as to this day I don't have sugar on cereal), my once-weekly treat of a ten-penny bag (a small stash of teeth-rotting sweets) or maybe biscuits (nothing fancy mind you - it was generally plain Rich Tea biscuits in our house or maybe a pink wafer). It was usually a variation on one of these things throughout my childhood, as I dutifully observed Lent - there was little else you could give up as a child (no mobile phones or other addictive gadgets, very little to watch on the TV and no money for any other luxuries). 

But two other memories stand out. The first was the mounting excitement as St Patrick's Day approached. Not because of the parade (which you would understand if you grew up in the 70s and 80s - let's just say, the Dublin parade has come a long way since then). No, the excitement was because we all got a free pass on the Lenten restrictions. Come Paddy's Day, we would head straight from mass to the local newsagent for some penny sweets, the adults would get to enjoy an alcoholic beverage, and everyone had dessert after dinner. 

The second is of Pancake Tuesday - the feast of pancakes that we ate before the drabness of Lent kicked in and the sight of my mother with sleeves rolled up, two pans on the go, pouring batter and flipping enough pancakes to feed an army (five hungry children and two adults may not be quite enough to qualify as an army, but I'm not sure Mam would see much of a difference). The tradition of using up luxury ingredients like eggs, dairy and flour, before the fasting and strictures of Lent began, is a long held one. It has lost much of its meaning now, given that most of us would see such ingredients as essentials or commonplace rather than as luxuries. But Pancake Tuesday has become enshrined in our calendar of foodie events, along with mince pies at Christmas and chocolate eggs at Easter, even if most of us don't remember why we do it.

This year, sadly, I missed it. The day came and went while I was busy, tired and generally not feeling very well. I had no desire to stand over a hot stove making pancakes at the time, but ever since then the urge to have some pancakes has been growing. So I decided that this year I would have a Pancake Sunday instead of a Pancake Tuesday. Since Pancake Tuesday is a moveable feast every year in terms of its date (falling in with Easter obviously), I thought it could also be shifted to a day that suits me. No doubt this is breaking all sorts of traditions and is quite possibly illegal in canon law - pancakes during Lent? - but I shall persevere nonetheless (I'm such a rebel). Last weekend was all about recharging the batteries and relaxing, so what better time to rustle up a few pancakes I thought?

Pancake batter is, quite possibly, the easiest thing in the world to make. If I could, I would shout that from the rooftops, so people would stop buying those instant mix pancake batters that cost more than they should. It requires no weird or specialised ingredients and no particular skill (it's just as easy as the instant mix in fact, which is basically adding wet ingredients to dry). You need 110g of plain flour, a pinch of salt, a tablespoon of oil (any flavourless oil - sunflower / rapeseed / vegetable), one egg and one egg yolk (if you prefer to use two whole eggs, just reduce the amount of liquid to 200ml - it makes a slightly less rich batter) and 260ml of milk and water combined (of which about 2/3 should be milk - exact amounts aren't required here, so a rough guess is fine). 

The method is as straightforward as the ingredient list. Simply place the flour and salt in a bowl, make a well in the centre and add the egg, egg yolk and half of the milk/water, stirring with a whisk or spoon as you pour in the liquid. Add the oil and mix to a smooth paste, then add in the rest of the milk/water and you're done. Generally, it's thought best to leave the batter to rest in the fridge for an hour or more (this is traditionally how it's done) - the technical reason, apparently, is that it thickens slightly as the flour continues to absorb the liquid, thus improving in flavour and giving a more evenly cooked pancake. Having said that, I have, on more than one occasion, made the batter and used it pretty much straight away and the pancakes were fine (usually when time was short or I wanted pancakes NOW), so don't worry too much if you're in a similar predicament. The batter will happily keep in the fridge, covered, for a few days and if it gets too thick, simply loosen it up with a drop of water or milk - this is handy if you want to have it made ahead of time or even to dip in to the next morning for breakfast if there's any left over. 

So batter is easy. The real test is one of stamina - standing over the searingly hot pan, ladling in the batter, time after time, until you have as many pancakes as you need. I can never quite remember how many pancakes the recipe above will give you (I make them, I eat them, but never remember to count) - I just know that Mam used to multiply it by five to feed the family and we just ate until the batter well ran dry so to speak (little pancake savages that we were). There's such a quick turn-around between the making and the eating, since they don't keep well, that there just never seems to be time to take stock. I usually get two pancake feasts out of the batter if I'm feeding just myself, so I would be inclined to say 10-12 pancakes (just confirmed a similar number on a Delia recipe online, so not too far off despite the persistent lack of counting). As for toppings - butter, lemon and sugar. When I enter Pancake Land, I stick firmly to tradition, mostly because if it ain't broke, don't fix it. It's hard to beat the combination of salty, creamy butter, zesty lemon juice and sweet sugar. (Besides which, I had a most unpleasant experience with a Nutella crepe in Paris when I was 18 - consumed after way too much red wine on an empty stomach. Not the fault of the Nutella crepe obviously, but I've never been able to so much as look at one again.)

When Rabbits Go Wild

Normally, as you know, I like to post a photo of something I've baked, but given the time-sensitive nature of pancakes, I didn't want to stop to grab the camera and frame a shot (the picture above came from the Good Food website). Since I cheated on the pancake photo, I thought I'd post this image I came across on an Irish archaeology blog I sometimes look at - for no other reason than it's so odd, I just had to share it. It's not entirely appropos of nothing. We are currently in Lent and the rabbits made me think of Easter (as in the Easter Bunny - not long now folks!). It comes from a manuscript dated to about 1300. The manuscript itself was written about 1260 and is a doctrine on canon law, so not terribly exciting. The interesting bit is that forty years after it was written, someone painted lots of (mostly) weird drawings in the margins of the illuminated manuscript - think Book of Kells but illustrated by a medieval Gary Larson  (if it was intended to be funny) or the Dexter of medieval scribes (if you're leaning more towards sociopath). Who knew rabbits could be quite this scary? If I'd seen this picture as a child, I don't think I'd have been quite so happy to have the Easter Bunny roaming about the house, chocolate egg or no chocolate egg. Somehow I don't think Hallmark will be using this on their Easter cards any time soon...