Happy New Year! First recipe of the year: Liz's Pancake Non-pareil. This gem was handed down to me from my best friend's mom. First, it was a favorite Sunday breakfast item for my husband. Later, the children would get it on school days (my friends were enviously amazed that I would give my kids something prepared from scratch, not something out of the freezer to pop into the microwave). The husband dropped out of the picture but the girls are blessedly with me. Now in their early twenties and not living at home, when I take a pancake non-pareil out of the oven, golden-brown and puffed like a pop-over, they travel back to the softer and gentler times of their childhood. The current man in my life is now the beneficiary of this marvelously simple, yet sophistocated, pancake. This New Year's morning I made it for my daughter and her friend before they shoved off to live out their versions 2010. I did not partake as I'm on a diet after last night's feast that would make Julia C. tingle -- Julia's French Bread, Fondue au Fromage, Souffle au Chocolat. Mmmmmm!
LIZ'S PANCAKE NON-PAREIL
2 tablespoons butter
2 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup flour
salt
grated nutmeg
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees F.
In a 9-inch cast-iron skillet, melt 2 tablespoons of butter (you can do this in the oven while it is pre-heating). In a small bowl, vigorously whisk 2 eggs. Whisk in 1/2 cup milk, then 1/2 cup flour. Stir in a little salt and a few grindings of nutmeg. Pour into the hot skillet and put in the middle of the hot oven for 15 minutes, until puffy and golden brown. You can squeeze the juice of half a lemon over the pancake and sprinkle it with powdered sugar, if you like. Serve with any of the following: maple syrup, lingon berries, sliced strawberries, chopped up apples, fresh fruit salad...
Serves two.
She was known for her pancakes. Takes me back too, dear Ms. Seurat, Jamaica, the Paris Theatre (Eric Rohmer just passed, sigh), Steak and Brew, the Met, siamese cats. Love the blog and everyone associated with it. Can't wait for Serina Kake!
ReplyDeleteThose memories invade the grooves in my head with greater frequency as the year pass along. A sign of growing old? The senses that food awaken prod memories to life. I am finding even writing it has a similar effect. Serina kakker, you say? I'm also thinking about those famous oatmeal raisin cookies that were stored in the gorgeous blue and white Chinese soup tureen!
ReplyDeleteAwaiting the serina kakker, perhaps for and Easter uprising dessert?
ReplyDelete