Brown Sugar Oatmeal Pancakes

Mother's Day is Sunday. I called Patty at seven-forty-five, before the 7:15 call could come — second year in a row I beat her to it. She laughed. She said "You called first again." I said "I'm practicing." She said "Practice more." Then she said thank you for the peonies I sent ahead by mail, which arrived Friday, which she had put in the tall vase immediately and sent me a photo of. The photo had her hand in the corner of it, slightly blurry, which is how Patty takes photos. I saved it.

Mother's Day brunch at Steve and Patty's on Sunday. I made the French toast again — thick-cut bread, eggs and vanilla and cinnamon, the cast iron — and Patty sat at the table and let me make it, which she does not always do. She asked about the magazine piece. I showed her the photo on my phone of the Pilsen kitchen and she studied it for a minute and said "I recognize the Dutch oven." Yes, I said. That is your Dutch oven. She said "Good." That is the highest possible approval of where the Dutch oven ended up.

I told Patty about the book idea. First time telling her in person, specifically. She listened to the whole description without interrupting, which Patty will do when she is taking something seriously. She said "Your grandmother's recipes." I said yes, and yours, and what they mean. She said nothing for a moment. Then she said "Ask Babcia Rose to tell you about the recipe book she had in Poland." I said she had a recipe book. Patty said "She left it there when they came here. She never talked about it." Then the French toast needed to be flipped and we flipped it and she did not say anything else about it.

I am going to ask Babcia Rose about the recipe book. I do not know when. I know I will not wait long.

The French toast I made Sunday — thick-cut bread, cast iron, the vanilla and cinnamon Patty likes — was not a recipe I ever wrote down. It lives in my hands. But when I thought about what to share here, after a morning like that one, I kept coming back to something in the same register: warm, unhurried, the kind of thing you make when someone deserves to sit down and just receive it. These Brown Sugar Oatmeal Pancakes are that recipe. Hearty enough to feel like a real occasion, sweet enough to feel like you meant it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 12 pancakes)

Ingredients

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus more for the pan
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Soak the oats. Combine the rolled oats and buttermilk in a medium bowl and let them soak for 5 minutes while you gather the remaining ingredients. This softens the oats and gives the pancakes a tender, slightly chewy texture throughout.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt until evenly combined.
Combine wet and dry. Add the eggs, melted butter, and vanilla to the soaked oat mixture and stir to combine. Pour the wet mixture into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just incorporated — a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix.
Heat the pan. Warm a cast iron skillet or griddle over medium heat and add a small pat of butter. When the butter is foamy and just beginning to brown, the pan is ready.
Cook the pancakes. Pour approximately 1/4 cup of batter per pancake onto the skillet. Cook until bubbles form across the surface and the edges look set, about 2 to 3 minutes. Flip and cook for another 1 to 2 minutes until golden brown and cooked through.
Keep warm and serve. Transfer finished pancakes to a baking sheet in a 200°F oven to stay warm while you cook the remaining batches. Serve with maple syrup, fresh fruit, or a dusting of powdered sugar.

Nutrition (per serving)

Brown Sugar Oatmeal Pancakes — The French Toast Version of Yourself