Bannock

So she baked two oatmeal bannocks, and set them on to the fire to harden. After a while, the old man came in, and sat down beside the fire, and takes one of the bannocks, and snaps it through the middle.

“The boats are coming!” The cry rang through the village. Women left their bannock-baking, their basketweaving and hurried to the shore.

My father’s bannock was nothing but lard, flour, salt, and baking powder patted into big rounds and cooked on sticks over a campfire.