Petite Pannkakor with Strawberries and Honey

I love pannkakor. I don’t know what it is about these lacy, crispy, soft Swedish pancakes that I find irresistible. They’re just delicious and comforting, with a wholesome charm. Pannkakor is the milk maid of pancakes.

And after a soul-withering morning at the DMV, there was nothing else in the world that could lift my spirits.

Day-at-the-DMV-IllustrationI had my first pannkakor in Solvang, the itsy bitsy California town of windmills and Hans Christian Andersen fetishism. The waitress at the Danish diner set a plate stacked high with these buttery doilies and my self control flew out the quaint cottage windows.

In my daily life, I save buttery carby indulgences for eating out or special occasions, but I’ve been meaning to find more uses for the almond meal sitting in my freezer. I have a surplus of the stuff from an almond milk making scheme of some time ago. I’d heard about chestnut flour used in crepes, so why not use almond meal in pannkakor?

I’ll give you one reason: almond meal doesn’t provide the same level of structure that flour does. When I first tried this recipe, I attempted to make the platter-sized cakes I was familiar with, but it fell apart when I tried to flip it. The almond meal just couldn’t hold it together. So I went with petite pannkakor. These are about the size of a hand (my hands are elf-sized).

The smaller versions were just as tasty, and so convenient for portion control (although this is obviously not a dieter’s recipe).


Petite Pannkakor w/ Strawberries & Honey

  • 2 eggs
  • 2 cups whole milk
  • 1tbsp lemon juice
  • 1/2 cup almond meal
  • 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1 1/2 tsp fine sea salt
  • 1/4 cup butter (I used ghee, but whatever)

Whisk together eggs, milk and lemon juice in a large bowl. Sift almond meal, flour and salt into a medium bowl. If, like me, you find that some of your almond meal isn’t fine enough to make the cut, compensate with more whole wheat flour.

Slowly stir the dry mix into the wet mix until fully incorporated. Heat a large frying pan on high heat (but avoid reaching smoking point). Once the pan is warmed, bring the heat down to medium low. Melt 1 tbsp butter in frying pan. Pour about 1/4 cup of the batter on one side of the pan, and another on the other side. I would only suggest frying two at a time.

Once the edges have turned golden brown and bubbles are rising uniformly on the uncooked side, carefully (but quickly) flip the pannkakor. Check the other side after about one minute. It should also be golden brown.

Top with strawberries, powdered sugar, and honey–or whatever floats your boat.

Note: butter is the key to these light-as-a-feather pancakes, so don’t be stingy with it. Each side should get equal amounts.


Random Updates from Random Me

Well well well. We meet again.

Non-Fic. I thought I would check in with some updates, starting with the news that I’m writing non-fiction again. Not exclusively, mind you. But I have missed that scene and I’m the type of person who levels up better while under pressure. That’s not an invitation, oh mystical Fates, but…yeah. As luck would have it, I was offered a great opportunity to do more food writing, so here you are, my first contribution to Men’s Journal:

Cinco de Cocktail….

Cinco-de-CocktailFic. And then there’s THE BOOK. I’m getting things done. Trust. The process of flinging it out into the world at this stage is boring so I’ll spare you. Okay, it’s not boring…I’m just oddly hesitant to blab about it. I might be living in a perpetual state of breath-holding. It’s hard to speak under these conditions.

I’m also writing short stories again, having been stuck under an editing rock for so long. I don’t sleep.

Reading. At the moment I’m reading Foundation by Asimov. Hitting up them classics. And enjoying it so far. Next I’m determined to get to Pratchett’s Hogfather at last. I’m actually audiobooking Foundation and physically reading Birds of America by Lorrie Moore. I fear genre insulation.

Stuff. In my spare time, I doodle and take long walks on the beach while trying to avoid the sea monsters because I only take long walks on the beach in my frightfully vivid dreams.


The Bedeviler’s Eggs [Cookery Rhymes]

Bedevilers-EggsThe Bedeviler’s Eggs

By S. Zainab Williams

Above the burble of a babbling bank,
Beside a river where the sun never sank,
But danced and glittered, blithe and blind
To a nattering drama of the silliest kind,
Cluck-spat argument of land versus sea.

“My egg,” crowed Hen, “is far supreme,
All speckled in red instead of cream.”
“Who cares?” pouted Fish with kissy lips.
“The cast of the egg between your hips
Is but echo of feather and fluff.”

“My eggs,” spat Fish, “are plentiful,
Of numbers great and immeas’rable.”
“Your eggs are itsy breaky things
And your paltry progeny have no wings,”
The ruffled Hen buckawed.

When out from the shade of a gnarled oak
Stepped a twisted man in a heavy cloak.
“What is this?” he queried in broken falsetto.
“Do I hear a cry for the honest libretto
Of one unbiased and true?”

“Good sir,” both entreated with harried breath,
“Would you tell us in truth, on pain of death,
Whose eggs are the best of all?
We need to know the truth at last and it must rest on your call.”
The man fell in shadow. And smiled.

“Produce your eggs. Produce them now,”
The man commanded with uplifted brow,
“I will take them aside to consider their gifts
But before I can you must persist
In laying your scrumpt–lovely jewels.”

So Hen and Fish handed over their sires
And the man sulked off with the root of their ires
To examine these specimens with boiling pot,
With herbs and mustard and thickening plot,
When Fish snuck away from Hen.

“Ho there!” whispered Fish from the muddy shore,
“Are you ever deciding, are you ever more?
Would you whisper though I have no ear?”
O’er coal and flame scraped a frying pan, said the man, “Come near.
Come near.”

Hen waited.
And waited.
Till the sun bent its leg,
And no more did she see that red-speckled egg.
Or Fish.

Bedeviler’s Eggs

Deviled Egg Filling: Egg Yolk (one dozen eggs), Coleman’s Mustard, Mayo, Fresh Dill, Horseradish, Salt, Freshly Ground Pepper, White Vinegar, Smoked Paprika

Garnish: Fried Salmon Skin