Are these unusual? Probably not. But I made them for a reason. The recipe came from my DH’s father, Charles. His loving Dad, who was a traditional patriarch of the family, and only helped in the kitchen under duress. Or, unless he was preparing cocktails. Or, related to this recipe, he did sometimes invite friends over for cocktails and a pancake dinner.
Here’s how this went: our oldest grandson was visiting and my DH was telling a story. My DH does that a lot – he’s also the king of the phrase – “never let a few facts get in the way of a good story” – that latter sometimes to my embarrassment because once he gets it in his head about some nuance of a story – he’ll tell it that way over and over even though the facts are wrong and even though I’ve told him time and time again that he’s got it wrong. Oh well, I love him anyway!
Dave was telling a story about how one late November when he was away at college (this would have been about 1960 – he went to Bucknell University, in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania – where his mother was an alumnus), he decided to skip his Wednesday classes and leave after his Tuesday ones (2 days before Thanksgiving) and drive the 5 hours home to Ocean City, New Jersey. He surprised his parents when he arrived at about 6:00 pm, to find they were having a party. A party where everyone was very dressed up (like suits and fancy dresses), but they were serving cocktails and then they were about to have a sit-down dinner of pancakes and sausage! His dad cooked all the sausage and bacon in the kitchen and kept it warm in the oven. They always made their own patties of sausage because for many years the family owned a gourmet market in Dave’s home town, and his dad, among other things, could butcher meat. He was also a bank director some years later. But he knew how to make a good batch of sausage (and no, we don’t have his Dad’s recipe for that) and the chunk of sausage was always shaped into a big 2-pound lump, then squared off like a brick and sold, as in a “brick” of sausage. His Dad also had some kind of a big electric griddle to plug in in the dining room, next to his chair at the end of the china and crystal-set table. He held court, so to speak, from that chair, turning now and then to flip or pour more batter on the griddle. He had a reputation for throwing these pancake dinners – well, he also did pancake breakfasts too, with tons of bacon, sometimes kidneys were served (this back in the day when no one thought a thing about eating quantities of organ meat), always home made sausage patties and gargantuan stacks of his “famous” buttermilk pancakes.
At right is a photo of Charles, probably when he was in his late 40’s. Cigarette in hand. I could have cropped out the cigarette, but that’s the kind of photography thing that was done back then. Sorry it’s not a better photo – I took it at an angle in order to get rid of reflections since it has a glass cover. He was a very handsome man.
Anyway, Charles also had a reputation for making a mean cocktail. That particular evening, Dave asked what he could do to help? His father said you can take over making the cocktails. Dave’s first “order” was for 2 rye highballs (rye whiskey and water, in this case) and he served them to one of the couples. Dave went back into the kitchen to start making some other drink. In a minute his dad came into the kitchen with the 2 glasses in hand, motioned to Dave, went to the kitchen sink and poured the two drinks down the drain. He said, “son, you need to learn how to make a cocktail – here in our house we make them long and we make them strong.” For sure, Dave never forgot!
So, there’s the background story! In telling this tale to our nearly 20-year old grandson, Logan wasn’t interested in the making of the drinks, but he asked Dave if we ever make the pancakes. Dave glanced at me with a quizzical look since Dave doesn’t do anything except man the outdoor grill and wash dishes. I said yes, but not for years – I’d look for the recipe, though. In amongst the few recipes Dave had when I met him was one very yellowed 3×5 card that’s titled: “Your Dad’s Buttermilk Pancakes.” About 10 years ago we went to Gloucester, Massachusetts, after Dave’s Aunt Louise died (Dave’s maternal aunt), and in amongst her things were a few recipe cards, including one in Dave’s mother’s handwriting, “Charles’ Buttermilk Pancakes.” So the recipe had legs and a reputation.
Back to last week – that next morning I whipped up a batch since I had buttermilk on hand, thank goodness. These pancakes are a cinch to make – and no, there isn’t anything unusual in them at all – flour, soda, salt, sugar, eggs and buttermilk. We had the left overs for breakfast this morning, quickly zapped in the microwave.
My preference is for thinner pancakes, so I actually added just a tetch more buttermilk to the batter. I truly don’t like thick pancakes, and the batter as written was too stiff for my liking. I’ve also changed 2 other things in the recipe below – scant the soda (I could taste it in the finished pancakes) and the salt. Otherwise, the recipe is just like it was in Charles’ time. (I never met his Dad, as he died when Dave was about 30, 10 years before I met him in 1981.) Dave may have never made a rye highball since (current versions use ginger ale rather than water according to the brief search I did on the internet), but he sure learned how to make them that night and he loves to tell stories about his Dad’s pancake dinners.
It must have been popular back then to have breakfast food for dinner. Was it holdover from the food shortages of WW II, when meat was scarce? Occasionally, my parents used to have waffle parties on Sunday nights. This would have been in the early to mid-1950s. And my mom would make a moderate mound of sausage or bacon, and she would set up the waffle iron on a sideboard in our dining room and my mom would man the waffle station (my recollection is she used the Bisquick version). The big treat was mid-way in the meal my mother would bring out a big bowl of freshly whipped cream and defrosted (sweetened) strawberries mixed through it, and that last waffle with that topping became dessert along with fresh, hot coffee. I hunted all over internet images trying to find a photo of the kind of rectangular cardboard box with a metal top and bottom that used to be the only way you could buy strawberries (other than fresh) in a frozen form. Couldn’t find a one. Oh well.
What’s GOOD: well, mostly it’s the memories. We enjoyed the pancakes – they were the penultimate in tenderness (remember my adage: buttermilk = tender). They browned beautifully and they were thin, to my liking. If you want plain and simple pancakes, these fit the bill. Complex? No. Nuanced with extras? No. Gourmet? No. Just plain, ordinary pancakes.
What’s NOT: nary a thing.
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Charles’ Buttermilk Pancakes
Recipe By: Slightly adapted from my DH Dave’s Dad’s recipe
Serving Size: 8
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking soda — scant
1 teaspoon salt — scant
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 quart buttermilk — (it may need a few T. more)
Oil for greasing the pan for each batch you cook
1. In a large bowl (use a Pyrex pouring style measuring cup/bowl if you have one) combine all the ingredients.
2. Use an electric mixer to mix until the batter is smooth.
3. Preheat oven to 250° and heat all the plates, including one for serving.
4. Heat a nonstick frying pan to medium-high. Pour about 2 teaspoons of canola oil into the pan and spread around with a spatula. Pour batter into smaller, rather than larger rounds. When you can see bubbles toward the middle of the batter (about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes), turn and allow to cook the other side for about 1 – 1 1/2 minutes. Remove pancake to the heated plate in the oven. Continue cooking pancakes until you’ve used all the batter.
5. Serve with your choice of toppings: butter, maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries, or other fruit syrups.
Per Serving: 241 Calories; 3g Fat (10.6% calories from fat); 10g Protein; 42g Carbohydrate; 1g Dietary Fiber; 57mg Cholesterol; 885mg Sodium.
hddonna
said on January 27th, 2014:
What a wonderful story! I love this post! I have many good memories attached to pancakes and waffles, too. Growing up, we got to choose our birthday breakfasts, and mine was always waffles with sour cream and strawberries. My buttermilk pancakes are “famous” in my family, too. Since I love breakfast foods, and my husband and kids always preferred cereal for breakfast, I got into the habit years ago of doing brunch on Sundays, just so I could serve them more often. Pancakes for supper weren’t unusual, either, nor were waffles or French toast, but I just love the idea of a fancy dinner party with pancakes and sausage!
I grew up in a small town in Nebraska, and both the volunteer fire department and the city council put on yearly fund-raising events, either a pancake supper or a pancake breakfast. The whole community turned out, and I remember standing in lines that went down the stairs from the second floor of city hall and out the door. At the top, you would pass a row of griddles manned by big men in white aprons and hats deftly pouring puddles of batter onto the hot griddles and flipping the golden brown cakes. “One or two?” they would ask, then pass your plate to the sausage server, who would add a crisp, brown sausage patty or two to the plate. You’d help yourself to applesauce, then sit down at long tables, add syrup from those little glass dispensers with retractable spout covers, and dig in!
You’ve touched on a lot of memories with this post. I don’t recall the frozen strawberry cartons you described, but I do remember mom putting them up in little waxed cardboard cartons. The ones in the store came in cardboard cartons similar to a 10-oz. frozen vegetable package. I remember getting fresh strawberries from my grandfather’s garden. They were such a treat that my mom would make a supper of strawberry shortcake–and nothing else! I continued the tradition when my kids were growing up. We always had a strawberry shortcake supper at least once during strawberry season.
Thanks for bringing back the memories. And I’d love to meet your husband and hear more of his stories!
Well, your Nebraska history story was interesting too! I’m glad it hit a fun memory-note for you. Sour cream and strawberries? Hmmm. Might have to try that sometime. Thanks, Donna . . . carolyn t
janet
said on February 1st, 2014:
I make a strawberry cake each year for my oldest daughter (now 41.) So I recognized your description of sweetened strawberries in a metal encased cardboard box. I used a churchkey (you never hear that term anymore) to get the metal portion off. I was so shocked when I could not find them anymore and had to adjust the recipe for the cake and the icing.
Thanks for the memories and the realization that I am not the only person who remembers those metal encased strawberries!
You have me chuckling here – it’s so hard to describe those old boxes – and YES, we did use a churchkey to open them. Thank YOU for the memories too! . . . carolyn t