An urgent message to AA arrives from NN. I am AA ‘almost auntie’ thusly NN my ‘nearly niece’. “Auntie can you please help.” (dramatis personae)
NN, “An Australian lady cut a wrap, folded it with different fillings and everyone’s jumping onto it. You used to do this for us,” being her bombast! “I don’t know what to do?”
AA, ” Bravo her for sharing?”
NN, clearly as miffed as she was preoccupied with effortless disregard.
Ah, the video call from Kitchen ‘cam’. My brooding vanguard standing hand on hips. She has the flavour, (ma and pa are both legal beagles and, currently, the jaded purveyors of home tutoring) plus the extracurricular cascade of unfortunate events gifted by chaotic C19.
Last zoom with her knackered Mama, she was downing a dry martini from a glass the size of a bird bath. Under coiffed (hair) and over quaffed (booze). Umm…. AA eh? I was about to find out …
NN’s communicative zeal and loquacious enthusiasm to defend, unfaltering.
“Anyway for school we are doing a home project based on what you used to do for us. Steering the conversation toward the greater good of humanity and just when I thought I’d nailed her concerns. “So what should I do?”
Pause…. “Nothing love it’s fine.”
“Auntie I can not not do it, they’d think it’s a protest.” After a little more libretti, huffy fluffing.
AA, “What’s really the problem”?
I swiftly recall a cuff round the ear by a Nun who considered my handwriting a little risqué! “If ya ink ain’t blue-black you’ll get a smack. Use black and blue or you will be you too. A Convent of scholarly pupils renown for their exquisite, poetic prose? ((Protest lolz))
Hormonal pause. “I don’t know what fillings to use.” she blurts.
NNFU ‘nearly nephew. (The FU is appropriate, he assures) pings a message. Top secret. She’s panicking, she’s convinced Dad forgot to book a delivery slot.
AA, “Roger that”. Now gratified with insider knowledge. “OK Mrs. whats available, wraps I imagine”?
NN, “No, no there aren’t any, Dad ticked the wrong box and and we only have a couple of packs of tacky pancakes”.
AA, I’m quite partial to a tacky pancake, just plead extenuating circumstances Miss Stroppy Sox?” Ping ping ping, three rapid fire messages of heart felt gratitude from the rest of the family.
We settle on one for each member of the family. Cupboard and fridge scarification. Every cut and folded pancake snapped to her phone.
One for the dog, Nappy, to be chocolate spread, dog food and dog biscuits? Nappy a rescue had err issues as a puppy, real name Napoleon, happy nappy in all its connotations being far more appropriate nowadays and Naps in his dotage even more so. The Napsters offering put in a marked, lidded tub and refrigerated for ‘Naps later’ and many are living in hope of same.
Accoutrements for a bananary one, salted caramel sauce and some chopped caramel pieces and pecan nuts. The build, maple syrup in a pan (echoes of “Don’t burn yourself!”) cut, fold. fold, fold a drizzle of the hot maple maple syrup from the pan, dredge of icing sugar pièce de résistance, salted caramel ice cream. NNFU. Sorted.
Lemon curd, fresh blueberries, mini marshmallows. The build, dry pan (echoes of “Don’t burn yourself!”) cut, fold. fold, fold garnish with a slice and spritz of fresh lemon, a dredge of icing sugar, pièce de résistance, ice cream. Mum. Sorted.
Cherry compote, chopped, dark chocolate marzipan sweets, almonds and some granola , dutifully whizzed. The build, dry pan (echoes of “Don’t burn yourself!”) cut, fold. fold, fold a dredge of cocoa and sugar, pièce de résistance, chocolate ice cream. Dad. Sorted.
She’d been scudding up and down stairs like a dog at a fair. Ping ping ping, three rapid fire messages of heart felt gratitude from the rest of the family.
The last three pancakes flung into the pan, all together, fresh lemon and sugar, generous glug of maple syrup, most of the remnants of the bits left on chopping boards all scattily lobbed on top of her plate. (phew, no dog food) pièce de résistance scoops of all the ice creams squiggled, squashed, dripped, draped and dolloped everywhere.
Bing bong. She hurtled down the hallway like a gawky racing whippet and flung open the door, plate in hand, and stood back. The food delivery. There was nowhere, but nooowhere, in the kitchen for it to go. Apocalyptic devastation. I could see the delivery guys face, it was a picture of disbelief.
“Just, err leave it there please, a polite thank you we / well probably my Dad / dishwasher will soon fix the kitchen. Thank you”. The stunned, speechless, delivery guy pointed to the frozen items and carnage. He simply turned on his heels and legged it. She skated back down the hall way in her odd socks, all gangly legs and arms plus a beaming smile.
AA, “So all good, are you now sorted Ma’m?”
NN, “Gasp! Oh Auntie, it’s five o’clock! Sorry, sorry, I gotta go Auntie, were gaming at 5. Thanks so much Auntie, gotta go – love you, thank you, love you, thank you. love you! Bye – whoosh – gone. Cinderella disappeared before I could say a word.
Ping ping ping messages. Gratitude and adulation beyond measure and just the one question. She did mention that this hasn’t to be in until next Thursday didn’t she?
AA, “A pleasure, gave you an hour to yourselves but you might want to nip down stairs and get your frozen stuff away …” before I legged it too.
Tea Boy softly grumbled, ” I could demolish a pancake.”
So this is chocolate cherry option what I lumped at him!
Slotting the two wraps/pancakes/crepes gifts extra pockets and is more absorbent / sturdy when rolled into a cone shape.
The 3-4 fold wrap/pancake/yada can be further layered as shown in the pic but please don’t tell Cinders.