Grandpa’s special pancakes
When I was little, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house in the Dallas neighborhood of Oak Cliff. Sundays through Fridays, my grandmother ruled the kitchen. But on Saturdays the stove belonged to Grandpa. Every Saturday morning, you’d walk into their house and the smell of smoky bacon, spicy sausage and sweet syrup would waft through the air, inviting you to take a seat at the table and dig into a tall stack of Grandpa’s special pancakes.
When cooking his pancakes, he’d always mix his batter with an eggbeater in a large 32-oz. glass measuring cup, which made it all the easier to pour the batter into the skillet. And while his pancake recipe is pretty simple, because they were made with both expertise and love they are still the best pancakes I’ve ever had.
Even though my grandparents were living in Dallas, they had never given up their family farmland in far North Texas. On both farms are pecan trees, and so they always had a steady supply of this sweet and crunchy Texas treat. Grandpa would throw them into his pancakes, and when blueberries were in season he’d add those as well. The soft, puffy pancakes combined with the snap of fresh nuts was a perfect marriage—so sweet and delicious, in fact, that no butter or syrup was even necessary.
When they retired and moved back to the farm, Grandpa didn’t abandon his Saturday-morning pancake tradition. If I’d be visiting, my grandparents always insisted I stay through Saturday so I could eat some of his pancakes. It was a request I never refused.
My family loves to both eat and cook, and my brother Jacob has decided to continue Grandpa’s pancake-making tradition. So when my Grandpa died in 2008, on the morning of the funeral, we woke up early to find Jacob in the kitchen beating up a batch of pancakes just like Grandpa’s. After eating and cooking, my family loves nothing more than the opportunity to remain at the table talking and laughing for hours on end. And Jacob’s pancakes were indeed a fine tribute as we sat around that morning at the farm, eating puffy pancakes while sharing memories and stories about Grandpa.
Grandma gladly gave me his pancake recipe, which is made all the more dear by the added instructions, “Mighty good on Saturday morning.” And yes, you can eat these pancakes anytime, but for me they’ll always be Grandpa’s special Saturday pancakes—a sign that a happy time of family gathering has begun.
Grandpa’s special pancakes
Ingredients
- 1 large egg
- 1 1/2 cups milk
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon whole-wheat flour
- 1 heaping tablespoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 2 tablespoons sugar
- 4 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1/2 cup shelled pecans
Instructions
- Beat together the egg and milk. Add the rest of the ingredients. Mix (can add more milk if needed).
- Pour 1/4 cup onto skillet heated at medium.Cook for a couple of minutes on one side (until edges are brown and bubbles form in batter).Flip and cook on other side a couple more minutes.
- Serve immediately.Don’t forget: Mighty good on Saturday morning!
This reminiscence/recipe had so much sweetness in it — and a lot of personal resonance for me.
First of all, and most importantly, I’m sorry for the loss of your grandfather. Those of us who have had grandparents to positively impact our lives are lucky, lucky people. I lost my last grandfather (from Ft. Worth) on Christmas Day a couple of years ago.
Whenever I read your stories about family/home/Texas I am often reminded me of similar special times — so often revolving around food! Even though our life stories have many parallels, I’m sure that everyone who reads you finds that point of communality in your writing– that moment of “yes, I’ve felt or thought just that” (but you said it better!).
Coincidentally, and I find this is a bit freaky — I made my family recipe for pancakes (with some pecans added!) on Sunday morning. I was even going to post about it; but then decided to save it. I will try your recipe — just for comparison’s sake, and in an honorable salute to grandfathers!
One last thing: I’m making some more cajeta today. By special request from my children — who, literally, wailed when we ate the last spoonful. Do treat yourself to “No Country for Old Men” — in either form. The Sheriff Bell character is made up of everything that is good about the old style of Texas man. Also, there is a great dry wit in amongst the philosophizing and carnage.
I’m so sorry about your grandfather. This is a lovely tribute to him, and I know he must have enjoyed reading many of the sweet things you’ve written over the last couple of years about your grandparents and the rest of your family.
This post brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for allowing us to share a special and intimate family moment. I am sorry for your loss.
what a nice story and memory. i bet he would be honored to know that you shared it with so many people.
that makes me want to get going on starting a family tradition here.
thanks for sharing.
Lisa, My heartfelt condolences go out to you and your family. I lost my grandfather 3 years ago next week. What a beautiful way to honor his memory with his recipe. I can’t wait to make them for my daughter and tell her more stories about my grandpa’s.