“The laziest man I ever met put popcorn in his pancakes so they would turn over
– W.C. Fields
“He who goes to bed hungry dreams of pancakes.”
– Maltese proverb
Is there anyone who doesn’t like pancakes?
The round batter cakes have been a part of my life, it seems, forever.
When I was a little girl, there was one Saturday every fall when my family would get up early and head over to Grenada’s First United Methodist Church, where down in the basement, my Uncle Jim and lots of other Kiwanis Club members were cooking up a storm.
It was the annual Kiwanis pancake breakfast and, for me, seeing all those community men in their white aprons and little white paper hats meant it was finally fall.
I was excited when I moved to Tupelo to learn the Kiwanis Club here hosts an annual pancake breakfast on the Saturday morning of the Christmas parade.
Pancakes remind me of my grandmother who, as far as I know, never used a boxed mix. Her flapjacks were homemade, mixed in a Mason jar and poured straight from the jar onto a hot griddle.
The recipe? I gave up on that years ago, knowing I could never really follow “a pinch of this, a dab of that.”
I miss her pancakes, but not as much as I miss her.
Now, I have known a few folks who preferred their pancakes plain. No syrup.
But I believe pancakes and syrup go together like biscuits and butter.
From the lady herself
I grew up in a Log-Cabin-syrup-sort-of family. But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup.
Here’s why: Several weeks ago an e-mail arrived asking if I wanted to be a part of a conference call on Oct. 1 at which time Mrs. Butterworth would reveal her long-secret first name to syrup lovers around the world.
I decided it might make for a fun story, so on Thursday, I called and waited for the conference to begin.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. It was Mrs. Butterworth of the brown-bottle fame. And with her trademark laughter and kind voice, she told the story of how she got her first name.
Her parents could not agree on a name before her birth. Her dad wanted Yvonne; her mom wanted Opal. When the healthy baby girl was born, she did not cry – she giggled.
The doctor suggested the parents name their happy baby Jocelyn, which means “the merry one.”
Instead, her father suggested they use the first letters of Jocelyn, Opal and Yvonne.
Meet Joy. Joy Butterworth.
“My syrup has brought joy to children at the breakfast table for years,” she said during her conference. “Since I’ve become a successful and confident businesswomen, I thought it was time people know my first name.”
Contact Leslie Criss at leslie.criss @djournal.com or (662) 678-1584.
Leslie Criss/NEMS Daily Journal