Tall, Fluffy Buttermilk Pancakes

About a year ago, over a series of weekends I was up too early anyway, I went on a buttermilk pancake-making bender. I tried, well, not all, but several of the recipes I always read about, the loftys and the fluffys and the best-evers. Recently, in an attempt to extract myself from the 1008-page book I began in the fall and needed to accept I was probably never going to cross the halfway point of, I read Nora Ephron’s Heartburn.

[I think library science lessons are a small price to pay for pancakes, don’t you, And so we made the buttermilk pancakes griddle cakes and guess what, They were tall and fluffy and stayed that way indefinitely; they were good an hour later from a warm oven, the leftovers were good microwaved on a school morning, and they were good cold schmeared with a little jam. They’re thick enough that you could add blueberries or other chunks of fruit or chocolate chips to them and they won’t fall to mush.

There’s no cornstarch in there, no vinegar, only a moderate amount of butter and, here’s the best part, no separated eggs. Nobody should ever have to separate eggs before 9 a.m. If you’ve thus far been enamored, understandably, with oatmeal or strawberry-cornmeal or lemon-ricotta or old-school cottage cheese pancakes, I do not expect these to replace them in your life.

But if you’re looking for a classic, tall, fluffy, no-nonsense, one-bowl weekend pancake, do know that these are so simple, you can make them half-asleep; I know because I usually do. ] also misses the whole point of cooking, which is that is totally mindless. What I love about cooking is that after a hard day, there is something comforting about the fact that if you melt butter and add flour and then hot stock, it will get thick! It’s a sure thing!

It’s a sure thing in a world where nothing is sure. This recipe makes 14 quite-tiny (2 to 3-inch) pancakes. You should absolutely double it; I’m only not doing it preemptively because this amount works well for us (we adults usually try to eat more fruit than pancakes, heh). Because buttermilk varies a lot in thickness, I give a range here for the correct amount.

The one I use is very thick and I almost always need the full amount. Look for a batter thick enough that you have to push it off the spoon with your finger, or that doesn’t puddle out much when it hits the pan. Heat oven to 225 degrees F and place a large baking sheet inside.

Melt butter halfway in the bottom of a large bowl then whisk in sugar. This should leave the mixture lukewarm, not piping hot, but if it still is, let it cool slightly before adding the egg. Whisk in egg and vanilla, then 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons of the buttermilk. Whisk in salt and baking soda until fully combined, scrape down bowl, then stir in flour until it just disappears.

You’re looking for a thick mixture, more like a very soft cookie dough than a pourable batter, but if it’s very stiff, add 1 to 2 more tablespoons of the remaining buttermilk and stir until combined. Heat griddle or frying pan over medium. 40 or 1.5 tablespoon scoop to make this even easier and neater. Try to resist the urge to press the mounds into flat puddles; a little nudge is okay but we’d much rather keep the height here.

Once bubbles form on top, lift a corner of each pancake and check for it to be lightly browned before flipping it. At this point, I like to reduce the heat to medium-low for the remainder of the cooking time. I’d rather the pancakes take a minute longer than singe dark as soon as they hit the pan, but your stove will vary.

Once pancakes are golden brown on the second side, and do not worry if the tall sides look raw, this is completely expected, just transfer them to heated oven. Repeat with remaining batter. Tall, thick pancakes like this almost always hide pockets of uncooked batter; 5 minutes in the oven will fix this. You can leave them in the oven for much longer, however, if you now wish to rinse berries and make coffee (which of course you do).