Shrove Tuesday Pancakes a British tradition
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Pre-Lenten Pancakes? Apparently, it happens a lot in some places.
If my Slovak ancestors had some tradition for Shrove (or fat) Tuesday, it didn’t transit across the Atlantic. As noted in past Test Kitchens, my Mom baked homemade bread and kreppe (fried dough) on Good Friday, and a variety of special foods on Easter (including paska bread) and Christmas Eve, but I don’t remember the day before Ash Wednesday having a special name, much less a special meal.
I learned fairly early about doughnuts for Shrove Tuesday, and even made some once back in mom’s kitchen ages ago. I haven’t tried to make any for this feature, though regular readers may remember MT’s forays. The traditional torus-shaped molasses doughnuts were a hit, as were the orange version with chocolate frosting (for Halloween). In a precursor to the TL Test Kitchen, she even made well-received fastnachts in 2003, though she wrote about her efforts in the third person as a “co-worker” who brought them to work for sampling, and the person doing all the prepping and frying was “she.”
We do not talk about her jelly doughnuts.
But through inattentiveness or inadequate exposure to Brits, I never heard of “Pancake Tuesday” until I Googled “Shrove Tuesday Recipes,” and this was at the top of the results.
This particular version calls for pancakes so thin they could be confused with crepes, and the fact that the recipe has you roll them up reinforces that notion, which created a perceptual hurdle for most people (not me) who sampled them. Being home when I made them, MT was the first to express it.
“They’re good,” she said, “But I think they would be better with some filling, like some fruit.”
She took some to her mom, who similarly said they were good and reminded her of the pfannekuchen, or pancakes, her mother used to make — but also thought they might benefit from a filling.
I worked at home while MT took some into an office sparse with newsroom taste testers thanks to Tuesday’s winter weather, and the trend continued. “They’re good,” Bill O’Boyle said, “but what’s inside them? They should have something sweet inside them.”
MT swears she did not prompt him to say that. I, of course, believe her. She did concede, after eating four of them, that she liked the “tangy lemon flavor.”
Anglophile Roger DuPuis brought a non-crepe expectation to to his sampling. “They’re very good, and very British. I like them, and I know they play games with them and have races.”
“I can just picture people running and flipping a pancake in a skillet at the same time,” MT said.
Well, in point of fact, that’s what they do. And the most famous such contest is in Olney (the Associated Press Reports it was held again this year). According to historic-uk.com, the tradition there started in 1445, at a time when Anglo-Saxon Christians called the absolution of sins being “Shriven.”
A bell would be rung to call people to confession, and in an epic moment a woman of Olney was making pancakes when the “shriving bell” sounded. She ran to church in her apron, still carrying her frying pan. Thus women to this day will race with pan in hand, conducting mandated flipping of a real pancake on their way to hoped-for victory.
I cook a good bit, but have yet to master the art of flipping without an implement, though I do try occasionally — and then wipe the mess off the stove.
A few suggestions from my Shrove Tuesday pancake experience: You can adjust the sugar and lemon juice to your hearts delight. I kept experimenting and settled on a half to three-quarters of a teaspoon, spooning it onto the pancake and spreading with the back of the spoon. Adjust the sugar with equal abandon.
You can make these any size you want, I went small to middling, much smaller than the pan I used. And while the recipe suggests swirling the pan to spread them, for me the batter was so thin it spread nicely by itself, though I did pour it sometimes in a swirling motion from the center out. Which brings up the “Pour batter into a jug.” I used a large (4-cup) measuring cup, and the spout made controlling the application of batter into the pan nearly effortless.
I did find myself putting them straight from the pan onto a paper towel to blot them for a second or two, which seemed to make the rolling easier. But it’s not necessary. In fact, the rolling isn’t necessary. Many online recipes show them simply folded twice into a wedge shape.
Lastly, adding two tablespoons of “your favorite liqueur” is optional, water is an alternative. I compromised, and used a tablespoon of water and a tablespoon of Hine Cognac I had received as a Christmas gift. Next time I will used two tablespoons of liquor, though perhaps a more readily available brand.
Dobru chut!
Traditional British Shrove Tuesday Pancakes (christinascucina.com)
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons all purpose/plain flour
⅛ tsp salt
1 egg, beaten
8 ounces milk
2 tablespoons of your favorite liqueur, or water
Butter for pan
Lemon wedges and sugar, to serve.
Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl; make a well in the middle and add the beaten egg.
Stir in half the milk, working in the flour gradually until it begins to form a batter, then beat well and add the rest of the milk and liqueur or water.
Pour batter into a jug and let stand for about 15 minutes. When batter has rested, heat a nonstick pan over medium high heat, add a little bit of butter to the center of the pan, stir the batter then pour in a small amount into the pan then swirl it so that it spreads thinly.
Cook for about one minute, then turn and cook the other side for about 30 seconds.
Place on a plate, drizzle with juice from a fresh lemon, sprinkle with sugar then roll or fold to eat immediately, or else keep the pancakes on a plate over simmering water to keep warm, then add the lemon juice and sugar. Continue adding a tiny bit of butter to the pan and cook the remaining batter.
Reach Mark Guydish at 570-991-6112 or on Twitter @TLMarkGuydish