Shrive

I've never been all that fond of pancakes. In moderation I can just about handle them. But too many and I soon begin to have regrets. They are a versatile foodstuff : simple to cook (especially the ones that go straight in the microwave), and readily accommodate a variety of fillings. You can be quite creative, if you wish: let your imagination run riot. But while I am happy to devour other treats in enormous quantities, I find pancakes have to be taken in strict moderation. I think it is a batter thing: you can too easily have more batter than is good for you. And I feel more or less the same about other battered products: fish, Yorkshire puddings, those little Chinese starter things. I have to take care not to overindulge. It is a burden I have learnt to bear through life.

But I do my best to participate in celebrating Shrove Tuesday, which happens to be today, to show some solidarity with these ancient traditions. I believe the pancake habit started as a way to empty one's larder before the start of six weeks' austerity during Lent. This evening I had a look through my fridge (in the absence of anything resembling a larder) to try to assemble the ingredients for a Mardi Gras feast. But there was not much to be found, assuming it ought to be reasonably edible. Mainly milk, and a few cheeses of various sorts, and a bit of leftover cat food. Not much to go on, really, for whipping up a tasty meal. Presumably in mediaeval times they took more care over stocking the fridge.