I've had a hankering for some time now for pikelets. This morning seemed like the perfect cool grey, rainy morning for them. My CWA cookbook doesn't need to be held open at this page.
I always make a triple batch - one egg, some milk and a few tablespoons of flour and sugar doesn't sound like much of a pikelet feast to me.
This pink measuring spoon is one of a set Bezley bought for me. They're great because they scoop, so it's easy to get the right amount and they double as mini ladles for recipes like this, which call for dropping just a tablespoonful of mixture into a hot pan.
You have to cook them with lots of butter - I mean, come on, it's not like they're a health food! Then eat them while they're buttery and hot all by themselves or wait until they're cold and add a bit more butter, just to show your arteries you mean business.
When my mum and dad would go into Fitzroy Crossing to do the shopping, collect the mail and, er, perhaps stop at the pub on the way home, they'd leave me and some of the aboriginal kids from the camp behind our house with a big plate of pikelets and a jug of green cordial. But I don't want to risk being satirised, so I'll leave the memories there and live in the now, man: fighting with Grumpy over the last pikelet. They're too good to be gracious.