Before I get too far along in this week’s recipe, I want to give a sort of editor’s note to last week’s tirade. A thought that had been gestating in my mind for a while was put to the test once and for all: polenta in cornbread. I found myself referencing historian Shelby Foote’s cornbread recipe, which calls for sizzling lard as a final ingredient in this stoneground cornbread. We happened to have a bag of Bob’s Red Mill Polenta sitting in our pantry and I thought, “Why not?” It was a smashing success, I must say. The texture is perfect, the corn flavor intact, and guess what? It has sugar in it! Another point on my personal validation board. So, if you have some stoneground polenta lying around, try it in your next cornbread recipe. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with the results. Now, back to this week’s programming.
I had breakfast twice on Sunday. When John woke up that morning, I was in the mood for pancakes. Graciously, John obliged me in this craving. Pancakes on Sundays has long been a tradition in my family, if you will. We’d have little bowls of chocolate chips, blueberries, pecans, a shaker of cinnamon, a smattering of syrups. It felt like a true luxury to plug in a countertop griddle and have pancakes made to your specifications. Of course I was partial to the chocolate chip variety in my youth, but I’ve grown to appreciate the blueberry in all its virtues. Especially in pancakes.
So, I started flipping through Cotton Country Cooking, brought to you by the Junior League of Morgan County, Alabama. Then it got me wondering if Morgan County even qualified as cotton country. To save you some research, it is…who knew?! Anyway, in the “Breads” section, there was a recipe called Oven Pancake for Two. Its ingredients were quite plain, with direct instructions, and a cute recommendation to serve this as a late breakfast or a quick dessert for date nights. Apparently it was supposed to puff up in the oven without any leavening, but who am I to be skeptical? Besides, we had everything to make it. I tossed it all together, sifting and mixing, and heating the pan like I was making cornbread. I poured my batter and 20 minutes later, I was gasping at what I surely thought was a disaster. The sides were peaking up from the sides of the pan, all the butter pooled on top of a custardy center. My immediate thought was that I had royally messed this oven pancake up. Drizzling some honey on it, I thought a little jam or marmalade might save it. The recipe called for confectioners sugar, but I didn’t feel like having a funnel cake for breakfast. To my surprise, we both rather enjoyed it. John even remarked, “It looks like a Dutch baby.” A what? Well, apparently it’s a thing and it’s exactly what I made.
These high sides make a delicate bowl that reminds me of puff pastry, with a center that reminds me of bread pudding. I snuck a little cinnamon in mine and a pinch of sugar, but you can sweeten this up with all kinds of fixings. Farm-fresh berries, macerated or not, would be perfect to pile high in the center. Not to mention it would make an impressive addition to your brunch spread without being overly sweet. Dot the inside with some sliced brie or camembert in the last five minutes or so, smear a little fig preserves here and there, and you’ve got a halfway savory variation of this. Maybe add some bacon, prosciutto, some chives or parsley.
Here, then, is a good way to start your day, no matter what you have at hand.
- Oven Pancake for Two
- 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
- 1/2 cup sifted all purpose flour
- 1/2 cup milk
- 2 eggs
- Dash of nutmeg
Optional: confectioners sugar, juice of half a lemon
Melt butter in heavy 8-inch iron skillet in 400 degree oven, being careful not to burn it.
In mixing bowl, stir slightly the flour and milk. In measuring cup beat the eggs with a fork. Add to the flour mixture and add nutmeg. Stir until blended but not smooth; batter should still be a little lumpy.
Pour batter into skillet with melted butter. Bake in 400 to 425 degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes until puffy and lightly browned.
Optional: Sprinkle with confectioners sugar and lemon juice. Serve hot with marmalade, jelly, or syrup.
In fact, Mrs. Robert H. Hosey, who contributed this recipe, notes that this is a cross between an omelet, a pancake, and a chess pie. I happen to agree with that assessment. Now, I’ll tell you how I did it, and I think it has a better flow. I went ahead and made my batter before I even put the butter in the pan. The pan was preheating with the oven before the butter went in, but I wanted to make sure I could keep an eye on everything. This way, all you have to do is wait for the butter to be popping and sizzling, then you’re in the money.
Make sure your pan isn’t too close to your heating element. Otherwise, you might risk burning the top edge of your Dutch baby, which does nothing for a baby’s constitution. If calling it a Dutch baby seems too much of a stretch for some of you, feel free to call this dish by its equally confusing nickname: German pancake. I didn’t spot any lederhosen or copies of the Complete Works of Goethe in my pancake from Sunday, but maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. For that matter, I didn’t see any tulips or windmills in my pancake either. Now, I just feel robbed.
On a less silly note, it’s not too often I come across a recipe that is quite simple in construction, but impressive in results. This truly looks like something in a magazine made for gourmands, but can be thrown together as quickly as any other quick bread we hold near and dear. It’s also the first time I haven’t felt tremendous guilt over Pancake Sundays, because the proportions are perfect for two hungry people. Really, this is a main dish in and of itself. However, you could also stack it with scrambled eggs and bacon or some such meat for an all-in-one dish. That’s typically how I eat my breakfast anyway, no matter how slovenly that may appear. My grandmother always ate her breakfast with a spoon, no matter what was on the menu. I can’t really judge, because I had an affinity for eating all my meals with a cake fork. We all have our eccentricities. Still, this is one that I beg you to try and tell me it isn’t the easiest breakfast bread you’ve thrown together. Once in a while, getting out of the recipe rut can yield some exciting discoveries in the kitchen. I didn’t wake up on Sunday expecting to learn about Dutch babies and their fascinating variations, but I also didn’t close myself off from that possibility either. As always, I’m always going to urge you to try it out. Believe me, I pay attention to everyone who comes up to me and tells me they’ve tried my recipes. I don’t take that responsibility lightly. Coming into your kitchens, even in this small way, makes me feel like we’re all eating at one big table. All of us, enjoying something as intimate and familiar as Pancake Sundays, even if we hardly know each other. So, I hope you start contemplating pancakes on Sundays, like I do, and I hope this pancake is worthy of your weekly rotation.
