The woes of a Brit in America on Pancake Day

At home in England, Pancake Day is massive. I’m talking pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Whether or not you prefer your pancakes with a light dusting of lemon and sugar or with multiple scoops of chocolate ice-cream and sprinkles, it’s all there for the taking.

During my first few months here in the US, I have experienced a food-filled Thanksgiving, I’ve worked retail in the lead up to Christmas, and I’ve been caught out by not realising “Boss’s Day” was a thing. I’ve seen first-hand how hard Americans go for holidays. No part of me was expecting them to let me down on this front. I didn’t even go on Wikipedia to check.

As the day dawned, I went on my morning scroll through the Holy Trinity of Social Media (Twitter, Instagram and Facebook) and was met by countless posts from my friends at home who, six hours ahead, were gushing about the pancakes they’d already enjoyed, and boasting about how many more were to come. I couldn’t wait to get started!

It was then that I realised, I hadn’t seen any posters advertising free pancakes anywhere on-campus. None of my friends had asked me about my pancake plans. My residence hall has a feast every Tuesday night with different junk food and, this Tuesday it wasn’t going to be pancakes, it was going to be Rice-Krispie squares.

Fear mounting, I did what I should have done weeks ago. I went on Wikipedia.

“Shrove Tuesday (known in some countries as Pancake Tuesday) is a day preceding Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent), which is celebrated in some countries by consuming pancakes. In others, especially those where it is called Mardi Gras, this is a carnival day”.

Lots of the seniors had gone to New Orleans at the weekend for Mardi Gras. If many of the rumors swirling around are true, the fun they had there had absolutely nothing to do with pancakes!

“Tell me Pancake Day is a thing here”, I said to my roommate in horror, trying to withhold tears.

“Well iHop gives out free pancakes once a year”, she said, in a valiant effort to console me. “Let me Google when they’re doing that this year” (Update: It’s March 8th, mark your calendars).

“That’s not the same thing”, I cried. “That’s not frying up your own lumpy pancake batter after school and flipping your best attempts accidentally onto the floor. That’s not the pancakes-for-every-meal type of day I’m talking about. That’s a capitalist enterprise!”

When I’m twenty-one, and able to celebrate Mardi Gras in true American style, I will perhaps make my peace with having to live through a pancake-less Shrove Tuesday. Today though, I am not in a good place with this.