(Belated) Split Pea Soup and Pancakes which actually is a THING

1. This was ostensibly a completely random culinary pairing, comprised of the two things I just happened to make last weekend. I made pancakes for Pancake Day, and Split Pea Soup because I felt like it.
2. HOWEVER. There is something called "Pea Soup Thursday" in Finland and Sweden that is mentioned frequently in Beatrice's cookbooks, and when I looked it up, I discovered that it is, actually, TOTALLY A THING. Historically, pea soup was served on Thursdays during the pre-Reformation era in preparation for the fast-day on Fridays.*
3. What I FURTHER found was that, since WWII, pea soup and pancakes are served EVERY THURSDAY to the Finnish Defense Forces AND the Swedish Armed Forces.
4. I feel retroactively vindicated.

*For the record, we did not fast the next day. Quite the opposite actually.

5. This post is late late late because it is hiring season amongst the independent schools of the United States, dear reader, which, delightfully, means that I spend quite a bit of time interviewing via Skype and, as was the case this past weekend, going on school visits. This post is a belated one because I was in the delightful state of Vermont being shown around a very lovely school, meeting awesome teenagers / potential future students, chilling in the faculty lounge with some truly cool people, and (no pressure, Beetle) teaching a sophomore English class. (Incidentally, I had them transpose Animal Farm onto Winnie The Pooh. Hilarity and awesomeness resulted. NOT THAT I DON'T LOVE THE TWELVE PEOPLE THAT READ THIS, but that kind of took precedence. I hope you understand.

And now. To business.

PEA SOUP AND PANCAKE THURSDAY / FRIDAY / ANY DAY YOU LIKE DAY

So. Split Pea Soup is delicious. I can totally understand why you would want it for dinner when you were planning on fasting the next day. It is filling, nourishing, and incredibly satisfying. It's also very, very, easy, and apart from maybe 10 minutes of initial cooking, really just makes itself over a low simmer on the stove, leaving you, the Finnish housewife, free to go dry a reindeer hide or make ice fishing hooks out of bone or something.


Obviously the traditional prep for Split Pea Soup is . . . um . . . HAM. Or . . . BACON. Which is . . . yeah, no. It makes perfect culinary sense, though, because that pork saltiness is an ideal accompaniment to the earthiness of peas and the sharpness of onions, and when you let it slow cook over the course of a few hours, the entire pot absorbs the taste and it really is completely and utterly divine. I've had plain pea soup a million times, and I will be the first one to admit that it is just NOT the same thing.

HOWEVER. Thanks to the magic of soy protein, food colouring, and spices, I bring you . . .

VEGGIE BACON!!!!!!!!!!

I realise many of you may not be as exclamation pointy as I am about veggie bacon. All I have to say is: your points are valid and I respect your food choices. You go ahead and put just as much actual bacon / actual ham in your pea soup as you want, I absolutely support that. But veggie bacon really is delicious. And see? They made it look like real bacon! All pink and cut up into strips! Can't hardly tell the difference, can you?

Anyway.

Regardless of the day of serving or whether you have pancakes or not immediately following, Pea Soup remains a quintessential winter dish. Onions, split peas, veggie broth, VEGGIE BACON, and any other vegetables or potatoes you feel like throwing in there, and the result is soup that fills you up, warms you up, and makes you not only warm and fuzzy inside, but also optimistic about pretty much everything in your life forever after.

And whilst it's cooking and making itself awesome,YOU, dear reader, are able to go change the sheets on the beds, disinfect the bathrooms, and refold and reorganise all the towels because SOMEONE doesn't understand that they all have to be facing the same direction and also stacked according to pattern, texture, and colour. And by the time you're done with that, then done with explaining WHY it is INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT that this rule be followed at all times, then done with the inevitable fallout where you are accused of being both Obsessive Compulsive AND a Fascist, hey, guess what?

SOUP'S DONE.

And now for some pancakes.

*BEETLE WARNING*

IF YOU ARE EITHER VEGAN OR LACTOSE INTOLERANT, LOOKING AT THE FOLLOWING PHOTOGRAPHS MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR PSYCHE AND / OR YOUR HEALTH. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 

So the reason that you make Pancakes on Shrove Tuesday is, duh, because during Lent you give up everything fun and yummy (or at least "one" does . . . we are heathens and therefore do not) and pancakes are a good way to use up any butter, milk, cream, or eggs you have in your kitchen.

The reason these are so good in particular, and the reason why I ate my weight in them every other weekend as a child, is that they are completely insane. They basically involve putting every single cow-derived-dairy-product into a bowl with a little bit of flour and sugar, and then FRYING THEM IN BUTTER UNTIL THEY ARE BROWN AND GOLDEN AND DELICIOUS. 

Every time I make these, I am reminded of how much BETTER my grandmother does it. Granted, at 96 and going strong, she's made several million more pancakes than I have, but still. She got them SO perfect and light, and also managed to do it without getting a single stray drop of butter on the stovetop. I, on the other hand, still spend half an hour cleaning a ten-foot radius around the pan, muttering how the hell did it get over here??? 

Like so.

However, I'd like to think that I get a bit better at them each attempt. This time, for instance, I turned a corner with the batter consistency. Instead of adding the butter and THEN the eggs to the flour, I melted the butter in a Pyrex measuring cup, then beat the eggs into that. What resulted was a thick, creamy paste that blended into the flour mixture without creating a SINGLE lump, something I'd always run into in past batches. I was incredibly pleased with myself. 

See? Smooth and creamy. 

From this angle, you can't see the stove top. Nobody should have to see that. 

On the morning of Pancake Day:

Me: You know what the best part of not giving up anything for Lent is?
Mum (through pancakes): What?
Me: You get to eat pancakes tomorrow too.
Mum (through pancakes): Suckers. Pass the Lingonberry Jam.

So, dear reader. Happy Belated Pancake Day, Happy Belated Pea Soup Thursday, and please keep your fingers and toes crossed that soon, very soon, I will have a happy "Beetle is Now a Teacher" post.

Now, if you'll excuse me dear reader, in preparation for the ANIME MOVIE PARTY OF AWESOMENESS that the library is hosting on Wednesday, I have to go draw SPARKLE FROSTING KITTEN FACES IN VARIOUS EMOTIONAL AND EXISTENTIAL STATES OF BEING on approximately 300 sugar cookies.

I will of course report back.