bout de papier, Vol. 32, No. 3 (2023), pp. 35–37
PANCAKES. Say the word pancakes and the first thing that comes to my mind is a short stack with maple syrup, butter, and a side of bacon.
ON THE RIGHT-HAND SIDE OF THE ATLANTIC, those are referred to as “American pancakes” (ahem). I have discovered that — generally speaking — they are usually better served on the left side of the Atlantic. And for the love of all that is holy, do not ever order them in Rome (though that’s a story for another time.) Happily, there is a whole world of European pancakes to discover, though I’ve only had the chance to sample a few.
You are probably already familiar with crepes, the thin French vehicle of both sweet and savoury toppings. Crépes make my heart sing when Belgium adds vanilla ice cream and warm chocolate sauce to make Crépes Mikado, but it’s a truly flexible instrument of deliciousness, equally able to transport savoury bits like ham and cheese with aplomb. These were born in Brittany centuries ago and were traditionally made with buckwheat; in Brittany they still are now. Good news for those who eat a gluten free diet!
I first heard about poffertjes (POHF-er-chesz) through a Dutch colleague. They sounded fine, but the idea of little sweet pancakes as a treat seemed a little … anti-climactic? They’re also very labour intensive to make, requiring both a yeast batter (which needs to be prepped in advance and allowed to rise) and a single-purpose divoted cast iron pan that you put tiny dribbles of batter into and then flip one at a time with a crochet hook or similar instrument. Oof. But my first taste at a Christmas market in Germany made me a believer. Topped with chocolate and coconut, they were magnificent. If you ever get the opportunity, you must try poffertjes, which are also super fun to say.
Let me now turn to some potato-based specimens: lefse, latkes, and rösti. Are they really pancakes if they aren’t made primarily with flour? I suppose you could argue either way, but they are flat, carb-y deliciousness and it’s my article, so yes. As a Maritimer, the potato base makes me love them even more. Norwegian lefse (LEF-suh) are made with mashed potato and rolled out like a tortilla. You can eat them sweet or savoury; my favourite way is with butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Latkes are (happy sigh) so good, little fried shredded potato morsels that could only (maaaybe) be improved with sour cream (or apple sauce, if you must). While they are famous as an oil-fried Hanukkah potato delicacy, they started out as a Jewish-Italian cheese pancake that was later adapted in Eastern Europe with a more readily-available ingredient. Swiss rôsti is a much more robust shredded potato pancake, originating in Bern as a breakfast dish, but now usually served as a side dish at lunch or supper.
Having saved my favourite for last, I would like to introduce you to æbleskiver (EHbluh-skee-wa). These are little pancake balls of delight haling from Denmark and served only at Christmas … though the Danish Pancake Police have not yet come knocking on my door when I make them out of season. When I first mentioned my interest in trying them to a Danish colleague at work, his wife Lotte back in Denmark promptly went out, bought one for me and mailed it to Brussels, along with the 120-year-old recipe you’ll find at the end of the article. The name of the dish comes from a small slice of apple that was traditionally added to the batter in the middle of preparation, a style extra I have not yet dared attempt. They already take both patience and technique to make, so adding apple just before flipping a half-baked ball of dough feels like it would be tempting the Viking gods to smite me. These little beauties are showered in powdered sugar and maybe dunked in strawberry jam (I’ve been instructed that strawberry is the only acceptable flavour) and are a mandatory part of the Danish delegation holiday festivities at NATO, though I’m horrified to report they buy theirs frozen and re-heat them in the microwave.
So there you have it: my Euro pancake shortlist. Had COVID not stolen several years of food tourism from me, I might have been able to tell you about even more. I am determined to use the experience as a reminder and inspiration to maintain proactive, enthusiastic research moving forward. If nothing else, the pandemic (and living amongst Europeans) has taught me not to treat travel as a rare treat any longer, but a means of pleasure, learning, and food exploration that should be enjoyed regularly. I hope you get out there regularly to see the world too.
Recipe // Recette: Æbleskiver
Ingredients
2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
I teaspoon ground cardamom
I teaspoon baking soda
3 eggs (Separated)
400 mL buttermilk
Grated zest of one lemon
1/4 cup neutral oil (com, vegetable, canola)
Butter for greasing the pan
Method
Mix, flour, salt, sugar, cardamom, baking soda, and lemon zest in a bowl.
In another bowl, whisk together egg yolks and buttermitk, and add this mixture to the dry ingredients. Mix the two well. Add the oil at the end, and let the dough rest for 30 minutes. Heat up the æbleskiver pan and add a small amount of butter to each hole when you are ready to start. Whip the egg whites to stiff peaks and carefully blend them into the dough just before cooking. The æbleskiver dough is then transferred to a pouring container.
Pour the dough 3/4 of the way up in each hole. When the dough rises at the edges and hardens on the outside, it is time to turn them over, adding a bit of extra batter to make a better sphere. (Lisa’s note: I use chopsticks.) If you want to add a small apple slice, add just before turning over. Tum the æbleskiver over several times during baking to make the outer layer eventy browned.
Serve with powdered sugar, strawberry jam, or go rogue and try with maple syrup, maple butter, or dunked in butter, then cinnamon-sugar. Do not answer the door if the Danish Pancake Police come knocking. I will deny all knowledge.
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 32, No. 3 (2023), pp. 35–37. Read the rest of this issue →
