"You're missing world class pancakes," Quinn grumbled.
The smell of pancakes still hung in the air of the cozy kitchen.
He picked at his food while the rest of us wolfed down stacks of pancakes and melt in your mouth sausage, the finest breakfast I'd eaten in years.
As soon as Dean was alone with Gladys, between her second and third helping of Cynthia's pancakes, he broached the subject of the annoying alarm.
The association of pancakes with the day was probably due to the necessity for using up all the eggs, grease, lard and dripping in stock preparatory to Lent, during which all these were forbidden.
"Ready for pancakes?" he called.
Betsy was seated at the table, forking sausage onto her plate and smothering pancakes in maple syrup.
Quinn was flipping the pancakes when Martha hurried down the stairs.
Martha had a plate full of pancakes ready so we all sat around the large table.
Supper was pancakes and eggs, with conversation directed to the children, interrupted by confirming calls from ice climbers who would begin arriving on Thursday.
It is celebrated in Catholic countries, as the last day of the carnival, with feasting and merrymaking, of which, in England, the eating of pancakes alone survives as a social custom, the day having been called at one time "Pancake Tuesday."
She shooed Sunny away from her half-eaten pancakes and paced the living room until light faded completely from the horizon.