PETER PANCAKES

What an awful picture for such a delightful meal!

The Background.

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. In the morning I always choose the egg beater/egg white omelet, toast, and bacon over something syrup-y. When eating breakfast-for-supper though, for some reason I enjoy pancakes or french toast. Heather digs real maple syrup, and I think I have finally put aside my heated Hungry Jack days to join her in the syrup actually tapped from trees. Maple syrup is a whole food, right?!

This recipe is from the cookbook Crazy Plates: Low-fat food so good, you'll swear it's bad for you by the Podleski sisters. I wish that I could take some credit for it, as the cakes are light and airy and have a lovely depth in flavor. The Canadian sisters have two other great cookbooks titled Looneyspoons: Low-fat food made fun and Eat, shrink, and be merry. Despite terrible puns, the cookbooks are fantastic and worth purchasing. I even found myself grinning in some of their cheeze quips (e.g. Bon-bon Jovi).

The Story.

Thanksgiving of 2011 was the first time Heather visited Goshen. I was a bit anxious about her coming to my hometown and staying in the house I grew up with, just as as most people are when they bring home someone for a holiday. Truth be told, I had never brought anyone home for a holiday before, and I was especially nervous about bringing home a woman.

Regardless of romantic intention, all visitors to my childhood home need to know that food rules in my parent's house.

Mom's fav: Gma Betty's eggnog pie

Growing up, my Mom cooked week nights. We usually had a pasta night, a stir-fry night, a taco night, and a steak night. Other dinners consisted of meals of a meat, potato and a vegetable. Like most people my age, in elementary school my family ate beef multiple times a week, but as I grew older mom starting cooking chicken a lot more. As she gets older she cooks less and less, but she will still go out of her way to ensure others have high quality food. Mom makes turkey roasters full of beef vegetable soup for teachers every year (one time she walked into the teacher's lounge as a hungry teacher up-ended the roaster to get the last drops of soup). She feeds the red hatters at her house, even if they tell her not to. She has been known to take chicken noodle soup to her tenants when they are ill. It isn't just serving; she enjoys eating too. She eats slowly and savors every bite. Meals literally take twice as long if my mother is present. She takes a bite of food, closes her eyes and rolls the food around in her mouth before she even chews. If it is dessert you can be sure she will let out a happy-dessert-sound. It would be cute if she were not my mom.

See the wishbone in the middle? 

Although dad did not cook on a regular basis, his meals were always "special," creatively turning leftovers into new meals on the weekend and carving holiday turkeys as a work of art (the wishbone always in the center of the display). He helped develop my palate by placing a plate/bowl of food in front of me and not letting me eat my meal until I could correctly identify at least four spices (salt and pepper did not count). This was fantastic practice, and I feel fortunate that he did this. I also distinctly remember one lovely Sunday morning when I woke up to my dad cooking pancakes on the indoor grill-turned-griddle. The cakes were good, I am sure, but what I really remember is that he added melted butter and cinnamon to the maple syrup. At the age of 8 I thought this was brilliant both for the flavor and the time saving element. Then I dipped my bacon in the syrup; it was like ecstasy. I have no idea how I have lived to be 32.

We are equal opportunity eaters and we thoroughly enjoy food cooked by others too. I recently realized that my mother eats at the County Seat for breakfast just about every day. She likes to sit at the counter and watch the owner work the small grill for three rooms full of hungry men who are in a rush to get to their jobs. It is a daunting task. My dad annually barters his hair services with a Mennonite woman for our now-traditional Christmas morning Swedish tea ring. Every year my mother fills the freezer with the most amazing cheese balls (in true midwestern spirit they are made by a sorority and sold in a church). My earliest memory is sitting at my kitchen table with chopsticks in one hand and a kleenex in the other. The chopstick in my hand were to eat, of course. The kleenex was to dab my watery eyes and dripping nose; the dishes were very spicy. My parents had invited a few visiting professors to Goshen College (from China) to cook at our house. The professors cooked chicken and peanuts, dumplings, and "40 clove garlic soup" (which should never be cooked in a house with hardwood). Even at my young age I knew the food was amazing and wouldn't allow something as silly as water pouring out of my face to prevent me from eating.

Over Thanksgiving break of 2011 mom, Heather, and I went to the County Seat for breakfast...every morning. Heather ordered pancakes...every day. The only change to this schedule was the day the County Seat was closed (the owner's sister was being honored for her military service). On the last day we were in town Mom, Dad, Heather and I went to IHOP, where Heather ordered...pancakes. I suppose a change of scenery is still a change.

The Drs McMerk

Heather is not a big person, and when pancakes are placed in front of her you can almost see her adjust her mental state to go into eating mode. Heather rarely has problems in competition with a stack of flapjacks. She almost always wins regardless of the size of the stack. This achievement was not lost on either my mother or father. My mom noticed the robotic-like methodical cuts and bites of cakes at the County Seat, marveling that Heather could finish the monstrous oatmeal cake. At IHOP my dad actually stopped eating his own food to watch Heather eat pancakes. He crossed his arms and laughed while watching Heather devour the plate. Mom and dad like to watch people enjoy food.

Before Christmas mom called me and said that she had been thinking about getting Heather a Christmas gift and asked if she could run it by me before she bought it. She wanted to give Heather an electric skillet for pancakes. While I was at home for Christmas mom asked me to go with her to the Essenhaus to pick up pancake mix and a bottle of real maple syrup. Mom also picked up a pancake ornament for the tree for her.

And that is when I realized that my mother was communicating through food as she always did. When my mother gifted pancakes to Heather she was really welcoming her back into her home.

The Recipe.

PANCAKES:
1 & ½ cups All-Purpose Flour
½ cup Whole Wheat Flour
1 & ½ tsp Baking Powder
½ tsp Salt
½ tsp Baking Soda
1 & ¾ cups Buttermilk
2 Tbsp Reduced Fat Butter
1 large Egg , beaten
1 Tbsp Honey
½ tsp Vanilla
½ cup Bananas, mashed


SAUCE:
2 cups Strawberries, diced
⅓ cup Orange Juice
1 Tbsp Cornstarch
¼ cup Sugar

Directions: Combine flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Whisk together buttermilk, butter, egg, honey, and vanilla. Add wet ingredients to dry; mixed until moistened (batter is crazy thick). Fold banana in. Drop by ½ cup on a griddle/large pan on medium-high heat (spread batter to make 4 inch circles).

STRAWBERRY SAUCE: Combine OJ and cornstarch in a medium saucepan. Add sugar. Cook and stir over medium heat until liquid has thickened and strawberries have softened (6-7 min). Let cool slightly.

The Process.

These pancakes lend themselves to additions. It is easy to add ingredients to the batter itself, or to add to each cake after it has been dropped on the griddle. Pecans, blueberries, and chocolate chips are our favorite additions. We also like to add melted peanut butter to the batter or use it instead of the strawberry sauce or syrup.

The Future.

I plan on taking Heather back home (the Mennonite Relief Sale is our next planned Goshen event) and take her to the pancake breakfast.