And on that finest of Shrove Tuesdays, so long ago, Columbus accepted that plate from his wife, thanked her for her labors.
He spooned a few berries onto the middle, over the slathering of fresh butter. He stopped, stared at the circle before him.
Slipping the tines of his fork over the edge, he turned it, curled it, rolled it. Paused.
“Prepare my best Queen convincing clothes.”
“I have an idea.”
Write any story, recipe or poem about pancakes or write a non-fiction essay about Pancake Tuesday (also known as Shrove Tuesday).