This past Sunday was the last pancake breakfast day this year. Because Lent was so early this year, there were only three Sunday's available before Easter. The fish fry Frudays had the same problem. We only got to one of each this year. Both are down home, community doings in very small local villages, with people coming from far and wide to experience that Norman Rockwell ambience. (I've written previous posts about both in the past, including one fish fry during which I managed to break my left hip.i proceed cautiously at such events these days.)
The Shalersville pancake breakfast is presided over by Mrs. Goodall, a slow art 90 something retired teacher, newspaper columnist and doyenne of Goodell Maple Orchard and farm. She is quite tall and motions people to their seats. Young students attend the tables, filling coffe cupe, offering refills on pancakes and sausage. Everything runs like clockwork, but there is never a feeling of being rushed.
It is a thoroughly satisfying experience.
The fish fry is held in a little town called St. Joseph, founded in the late 19th century by German Catholics. There's a scattering of houses and farms surrounding an umpressuvely large church and school. The dinners are held in the huge gym, which is filled with crowds of fish lovers, served by dozens of elementary school students. Again, it is extremely efficient, and the food is excellent - cod, shrimp, Mac and cheese, green beans, potatoes baked or fried, slaw and homemade desserts. No seconds, but you don't need anything else.
Well, both these events are over for the year, but we still have a couple of church spaghetti dinners left. One must eat, after all.