The first time I ever had scotch pancakes was in Sheffield staying with our cousins. Our aunty who was of Scottish origin had made these strange flappy things, bendy and soft, but very delicious with loads of butter. My mum didn’t ever make them and the shops were not as full of everything under the sun as they are now, so I didn’t have them ever again during my childhood.
I don’t know when I next had them – i had plenty of pancakes since then, not only every pancake day but loads of other times too. We would always have them plain, just with a squeeze of lemon juice and a sprinkle of sugar – when I heard friends say they had them with jam or mincemeat (sweet mincemeat) it sounded really strange.
When I first went to Manchester, there was pancake house on Piccadilly Gardens; being a poor student I’d look at the menu with the garish pictures while waiting for my bus. I could never afford to go in – I don’t think it was very expensive but in those days students were really poor, and as we attended college all day every day there was no chance of a part-time job. I promised myself that one day I would go in and have the one with cherries and cream… but I never did, and now I can afford it the pancake house is long gone.
We had a group round for an art class today, and instead of offering biscuits I made scotch pancakes for the first time ever. I looked at several recipes before going back to my faithful little BeRo cookery book. It was difficult to judge the consistency, and when I was cooking them I had the gas too high at first – so there were a few very sun-tanned. However, in the end I think I got the knack and when I served them to our friends they all loved them! Phew, that was a relief… I now have the confidence to try them again!