With the arrival of summer we have been hearing regular announcements of upcoming rodeos throughout the area. Some friends and relatives are Stampede enthusiasts; they’ve huddled in soggy groups at the Sundre parade, waited in endless lines for Stampede breakfasts and barbecues and shouted with the crowds as the chutes opened to release the next bronco and rider.
How often rodeos coincide with storms: rain, hail, raucous winds. Fans arrive regardless. The lines for the stacks of pancakes snake across the grounds.
At the seniors’ lodge we served a pancake breakfast the morning of the opening of the Calgary Stampede. The meal was completed in time for our folks to watch the annual parade on the big screen in the TV room or in their own suites.
The aroma of the hot griddle reached upwards to the third floor where we were cleaning residents’ rooms. A plate of pancakes set aside awaited each of us when we returned for our break.
Ah, pancakes. They were a fixed staple in our early childhood and carried forward into my own home. They were simple, filling and affordable. Sure to please.
Mom had several large cast iron frying pans. She heated them on the cooktop of the wood-burning stove. She used lard to grease the pan, just a quick smear to prevent sticking. She whisked a few eggs, added a squirt of vegetable oil, flour, baking powder and milk. She mixed the batter to a thin consistency. While the pans heated, the batter thickened a little more. Sometimes she added a little more milk, sometimes a dusting of flour.
Mom’s recipes, like Grandma’s, included “just enough.” I watched her method for years but when I was in my own kitchen, I pulled out a favourite recipe book. In home economics class with Mrs. Conway, we received a slim paperback with basic recipes. Those were my go-to recipes in my early years as a cook.
I sometimes included a few teaspoons of cornmeal to give a different texture to the batter. I have used brown rice flour in recent years. It isn’t as heavy as wheat. When the kids were small we experimented with different shaped pancakes. We created large alphabet letters and smiley faces. Sometimes we included fruit or nuts or even chocolate chips. I think we could agree that it was easier to make a variety of sauces or syrups to add to a plain pancake, not so messy.
When I smell pancakes, I remember the farm kitchen as well as several others that I inhabited through the years. After my children left home I didn’t lean so much toward heavier foods. Growing teens are perpetually hungry. They were both hard to feed: one indifferent, one very particular. I serve myself salads more often these days, a dish they had little enthusiasm for, although their tastes have evolved.
- Joyce Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
