Griddle Me This

Long Live the Pancake

You’re going to say I’m not a sweet person after you read this. It happens.

Somehow I was exploring the scone and its history when Queen Elizabeth II was close to her deathbed. Somehow or another the universe decided that as she lay dying, I would sit, still spelunking the nature of what we in the USA simply call scones. You see, once it came to my attention that the word scone, which had only one meaning in the USA, had many meanings in the UK, I was kind of hooked with following the word. Those meanings, and the queen’s heart, I realized all seem to find their way back to Scotland. Now, isn’t that interesting?

It also came to pass during these days that of all things, the queen’s favorite pancake recipe took over the internet. Post after post was obsessed. These were her favorite pancakes, and she sent the recipe to then President Dwight Eisenhower, with a handwritten note. They had enjoyed them at her estate in Scotland, you see, the one they call, Balmoral. Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?

Now, you may think I’m a hater, but I didn’t mind Queen Elizabeth, and in fact I found her to be, well, interesting. That means I kind of watched her, observed her, rather than felt some kind of connection to her. Watching her through a screen was like watching a science experiment, one we call “Monarchy.” It was shiny and proper. It had great manners in public. So, no, I’m not a hater, I am, a kind of observer who does not take kindly to the idea that her royalty makes me, a peasant, since that’s the way that system works. I mean, what’s the real difference between royalty and mafia?

So, I made the pancakes, the “drop scones” of the queen and I have to say they were top notch. A more delicate yet crispy crust has yet to be discovered!

I covered the fluffy cakes with butter and my own homemade jam and topped that off with a bit of grade A maple syrup. My soundtrack was the BBC news, more or less live reporting the funeral service. I felt the same way for her as I felt for any neighbor that I barely knew, but watched down the hall or the road. I felt sad for her family and the people who knew and loved her. I felt the world would be different for all of us now. I felt for that legacy of her reverberation in others and in the world but not for her.

I swooned over each bite while I chewed on my thoughts. She was, as they say, at peace. After a few chews I realized “I don’t know if she’s at peace,” but I do know she died relatively quickly and at home, and concluded a life of service in comfort and dignity. So maybe she did some very key things in life right? I mean, isn’t that kind of death considered across the board — a blessing?

I finished the griddle cakes, thought a bit about their evolution. As I was doing my dishes, washing away the royal recipe crumbs, I saw in my mind a movement. From tiny hearths with tiny fires to industrial kitchens full of gadgets I saw the parade of the griddle cakes. I watched a simple cake evolve through history. It moved from the fires to the mouths of families. Then the same sweet, flat circle, kept multiplying. It fed soldiers in the woods and it traveled miles with scouts and messengers. All the while I saw different mixing bowls and different ratios of flour, and milk, or water. I saw sugar, coarse and rare go into some bowls and I saw caster sugar, fine and plentiful, go into others. I saw, that the roads for some led to Scotland, and for someone like me they led elsewhere, but no matter the physical direction they all led deeper into the very universal act of staying alive. I imagined at some point they had to lead to just one, single griddle on one open fire.

Can you name me one culture who doesn’t have a griddle? or a griddle cake?

The things I don’t like about royal lines is that for them to be aristocratic my family, your family, any other normal family with all its dignity has to be a family of “peasants.” I don’t like these divisions that depend on blood and impact others with zero say in the matter.

I don’t like any system that says by virtue of birth these people are literally worth more than those people. And I’m not actually talking about their wallets not exclusively. No, I’m talking about the fact that the aristocracy with all its flags and symbols derives its worth from being closer to God. See, that’s the difference between them and a mafia.

Do I get the usefulness of a monarch? I think I do. Do I understand that sometimes a figurehead unites people? Sure.

I just think that somewhere along the line, the “monarch” position got inflated. It made a normal chief into something too big, something to close to a god in its own right.

Aristocracy makes leaders into another class of being, and this sets up a whole unrealistic level of ambition for the whole lot of us. After all, leaders, like griddle cakes, are something we all tend to have, so this class of “royals” have given our normally elected leaders a potentially dangerous example. They have done this now, for generations.

I guess the thing about me, and others, is that leaders, like cuisines, should come from the people, from their terrain. And leaders, like cuisine, should be local, subject to seasons and fluctuations. Leaders should be in the same geographic location as their people and not just on holidays. Does that make any sense or am I just sugared up? Can I get a “hip hip” for our peasant sister?

So that’s my take on the geo-political truths about why colonialism stinks and why royals are a sticky subject for me. I’m sure some of them can be very nice people.

At the end of the day: Long live the scone. As long as it persists we have plenty of time to chew on our thoughts. We can think about words and how they travel. We can think about food, and how it changes and somehow stays the same. We can even think about taking trips, to see landscapes that surround some old castles. We can do anything, as long as we are alive. Aren’t we lucky?

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Drop scones, also known as Scotch pancakes,

Shared by Queen Elizabeth II in 1959 with President Dwight D. Eisenhower.

“Seeing a picture of you in today’s newspaper standing in front of a barbecue grilling quail reminded me that I had never sent you the recipe of the drop scones which I promised you at Balmoral,” the Queen wrote “I now hasten to do so, and I do hope you will find them successful.”

In the recipe, the pancakes are referred to as "drop scones," and measurements such as a teacup (approximately 6 ounces) are used.

Ingredients

4 teacups flour

4 tablespoons caster sugar

2 teacups milk

2 whole eggs

2 teaspoons bicarbonate soda (baking soda)

3 teaspoons cream of tartar

2 tablespoons melted butter

Directions

Beat eggs, sugar, and about half the milk together, add flour, and mix well together, adding the remainder of milk as required, also bicarbonate and cream of tartar, fold in the melted butter.