Some of my Chicagoan friends have talked about it being Paczki day today. Apparently, a paczki is a sort of jelly donut thingamie.
Today is Shrove Tuesday, or Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, or any number of other names. The day before Lent begins in the Christian calendar.
I was raised with Pancakes for supper. The local Anglican church always sponsored a great big Pancake Supper, and we went, or Mom would make pancakes. Sometimes with eggs and bacon, sometimes just on their own.
Here in the Detroit area Paczkis are a big deal; big ethnic Polish community, lots of tradition. The local News guys will all send a reporter to a picturesque bakery somewhere in Hamtramck for a Paczki report. Until this year, my company always brought in dozens and dozems of Paczkis, but I guess that got too expensive (sigh). They’re just overgrown jelly donuts, but boy are they good.
Our church always holds a big pancake supper this night. The Youth Group do most of the work, and they keep the proceeds to finance mission trips in the summer. As the parent of a Youth, I’ll do some cooking in the back, wander around and take pictures, and generally get in the way. Good times!
Pancake and sausage day! YAY! I’m eating pancakes and sausages tonight in the Parish Hall of my church. The adults cook (I got out of duty) and the youth serve. I’m runnin’ me some younguns ragged tonight!
Jambalaya is on the menu for us tonight, and I will be making some cornbread in a black skillet to have on the side. This seems to be becoming a tradition in our house.
Fastnachts are the Pennsylvania Dutch version. They’re a cake-like donut that’s traditionally fried in lard and often sprinkled with powdered sugar. Most area churches have groups of lovely little old ladies that can bulk produce these things in absolutely tiny kitchens. Fire halls tend to have male versions of these groups.
I always thought they were kind of gross and now that I’m not in the area, happily settle for eating donuts at some point during the day.
Undercover Blues
The Big Easy
Angel Heart
Live and Let Die
and so forth.
Given that half o’ me is Acadian mon cher!
But we stay away from the city. Last time we were there we developed a severe case of parenthood. Gotta watch those scotch and cokes and midnight ghost tours. Nothing but trouble.
Our congregation alternates between pancakes one year, and a Mardi Gras party with jambalaya the other. This year it was the Mardi Gras, and I chowed down, because it will be my last meat until Easter. As a dedicated carnivore I give up meat for the whole period of Lent.
