Is rather more regular than just Shrove Tuesday in this household. Because I make the MOST EXCELLENT pancakes. And I like to eat my MOST EXCELLENT pancakes. They were the second bit of proper cooking that my Mum taught me (after a classic French Omelette), following which they became a routine after-school snack. If I was at home on my own, lunch prep quite often extended to knocking up half a pint of batter and then seeing if I could get more than eight pancakes out of it.
It appears that this crepe-predilection is genetically transmitted. Today, the girls had pancakes at school. And then they had pancakes after school, courtesy of Janet, who picks them up on Tuesdays. When Abby arrived home from gym, the first thing she said to me when I opened the door was 'Have you started the pancakes yet?' This, after enduring an hour of pancake whingeing from Hatty... ('Why does Abby have to be home first? Why can't I have my pancakes now? It's not fair etc etc').
So - they each had four like this...
It appears that this crepe-predilection is genetically transmitted. Today, the girls had pancakes at school. And then they had pancakes after school, courtesy of Janet, who picks them up on Tuesdays. When Abby arrived home from gym, the first thing she said to me when I opened the door was 'Have you started the pancakes yet?' This, after enduring an hour of pancake whingeing from Hatty... ('Why does Abby have to be home first? Why can't I have my pancakes now? It's not fair etc etc').
So - they each had four like this...
And then GASPED in horror when they realised I was putting the empty batter jug in the dishwasher. Because IT IS NOT EMPTY DADDY. There is still AT LEAST one pancake to be coaxed from the last few drops.
And they made me cook this.
And they made me cook this.
They cut it in half. To share. DROWNED in maple syrup. And then they ARGUED about WHOSE HALF WAS BIGGEST.
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