Flipping lovely

SHROVE Tuesday is around the corner. Mere mention brings happy childhood memories flooding back — suddenly I’m standing in our kitchen in Cullohill, mum is by the Esse dressed in her pretty flowery apron, her silver grey hair arranged in a neat bun.

All my brothers and sisters are seated around the kitchen table squabbling about whose turn it is to have the next pancake. Mum is turning them out as fast as she can manage. Sometimes, if the wind is in the wrong direction, the temperamental old Esse range isn't as hot as it might be disastrous when you need a very hot plate for pancakes. We ate them straight off the pan brushed with melted butter, sprinkled with caster sugar and freshly squeezed lemon juice.

Can you imagine how many pancakes one needed to feed nine hungry children? Each had a different ritual. I liked to spread butter all over the speckled side, then add the sugar and lemon juice and roll it up. Then I sparingly cut it into thin rounds, one at a time and even unravelled the last ones so they lasted longer. After all, eight others had to have their pancake before my turn came around again. It was a feast, and fantastic fun.