The USA is a strange place to be for Pancake Day. Watching New Orleans on the news as they celebrated Mardi Gras in a city so damaged and torn, both physically and emotionally, by last years hurricanes was difficult. The conflicting emotions the residents of the nineth ward must have, wanting to have some sense of still having the heart in the city at a time when they have been instructed that they cannot even rebuild their own homes.
My office threw a Mardi Gras lunch, with fried chicken, beans, and biscuits. Not a pancake in sight… The same was true at the supermarket, where lemons, flour and eggs were not marked specially for the day, and not a single sign read “Don’t forget the pancakes on Jif Lemon Day”.
We kept this bit of traditional British life alive at home though, as the picture shows Laura mid-toss! To all those reading this who’ve enjoyed a pancake party with me before (special mentions to Kevin, Tina, Chris, Helen, Cath, Adam, Mike, Fiona, Gaxx, and Hamon [wherever he may be on the planet]), I hope you and yours are all well, and enjoyed eating far too many pancakes as much as I did.