Growing up in the UK, we always had pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. It was a big deal, celebrated at home and at school. I have vague memories of pancake tossing (as in flipping) races.

In our household, it was a token nod to the eating of vice-ridden food stuffs before giving them up for Lent, a forty day period of fasting before Easter.

The pancake batter was the same recipe as for Yorkshire Pudding; eggs, milk, water, flour. We had one large sized frying pan, the resulting pancakes were thin, lightly toasted deliciousness served sprinkled with lemon juice and granulated sugar.

Throughout our thirty years together, my husband and I have infrequently enjoyed pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. This year my husband surprised me with Donna Hay Vanilla Bean Pancake mix in a neat plastic container.

Shake the vessel. Add a beaten egg to the dry ingredients along with melted butter and milk. Shake until a smooth batter emerges.

The mixture yields eight 12 mm diameter sweet, fluffy, American style pancakes. Personally, I like vanilla in moderation and prefer savoury over sweet foods. We were disappointed because they were not the pancakes of our childhood memories.

The photo has nothing to do with Shrove Tuesday or pancakes. It is a record of a mad day when we bleached and died my hair. My resourceful husband made the horns from a cornflakes packet