I was thrilled to have managed to organise a pancake party earlier this week. Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Day, was just a few days ago and always creeps up on me, unannounced in my online calendar. Year upon year I always say how I wish I’d got my act together sooner and organised a dinner party featuring nothing else but the humble pancake.
Well, this year I managed it. We had two pancake stations at the end of the table; think Ritz Carlton buffet-style with *slightly* worse decor.
We ate all sorts of sweet and savoury creations, from ham and cheese to spinach, cream and nutmeg. For pud there was lemon and sug (my all-time favourite) and Grand Marnier.
Mr Changmoh was the pudding chef and my lovely helper Gina-Lyn did the honours with the main course.
How to make the perfect pancakes? I am obsessed with Felicity Cloake’s columns in the Guardian and she tell you all you need to know right here. Did I read it? Nope. I was too busy flying around China Town trying to do battle with festive shoppers in order to buy my tabletop gas burners (bought for a song from Lau Choy Seng on Temple Street btw).
No, this time my recipe came courtesy of my fabulous frying pan. Sweet and savoury alike:
And for those of you not accustomed to the English ritual of carb-scoffing the Tuesday before Lent, it’s all about using up your eggs and butter before the onslaught of the coming week.
One of our guests was from Spain. He was mightily confused. In hispanic countries it is about carnivals, meat, music and dancing. Carne meaning meat and the end of the word, vale, meaning go (i.e. use up all your meat before Lent). In Spain they dance and party, in England we eat pancakes. Go figure!
Pancake stack image courtesy of Little Big Explorations