Ebelskivers {Puffy Danish Pancakes}

Spring is whispering. Not here yet — Iowa spring doesn't arrive, it negotiates — but the crocuses are poking through in the front bed and the temperature hit forty-five on Saturday and Jack declared it "planting weather," which it is absolutely not, but his enthusiasm is not subject to meteorological accuracy. He's been moving his tomato seedlings outside for a few hours each day, bundling them back inside at dusk like a farmer bringing in livestock.

I made Irish soda bread for St. Patrick's week — not because we're Irish, we're not, we're German and Norwegian and whatever else Midwesterners are, but because Irish soda bread is simple and satisfying and gives you an excuse to bake something on a Wednesday. Flour, baking soda, buttermilk, salt, a handful of raisins. Mix it by hand — not a mixer, your hand, because the dough should be rough and imperfect. Shape it into a round, cut a cross on top, bake at 375 until the bottom sounds hollow when you knock on it. Serve warm with butter. That's the whole thing. Nothing fancy. Nothing needs to be.

I had an assessment near Jasper County again this week. The drive takes me past the Weber land — Dad's land, the four hundred acres that aren't ours anymore. The fields were still frozen, brown and flat, waiting for the plow. I didn't slow down. I used to slow down. For the first year, I'd almost stop, staring at the empty fields like I was expecting them to say something. They never did. Fields don't talk. They just wait. They're good at waiting. Better than I am.

Noah has decided he's going to build a go-kart. This decision was announced at the dinner table with the seriousness of a CEO presenting a quarterly plan. He has diagrams. He has a parts list. He has a budget that does not align with reality but demonstrates an understanding of spreadsheets that is alarming for an eleven-year-old. Kevin said, "We'll talk about it." I said, "Where did you learn to make a spreadsheet?" He said the internet. The internet is teaching my son to build vehicles. This is either wonderful or terrifying. Probably both.

I made corned beef and cabbage for Saturday dinner — the full boil: brisket, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, all simmered in a pot big enough to bathe a small child. It's a once-a-year meal because nobody wants to eat cabbage more than annually, but once a year it's perfect. Kevin ate silently. The kids picked out the potatoes and left the cabbage. Dad was invited but said the drive was too far for cabbage. Fair point.

There’s something about baking mid-week — not for a holiday, not for guests, just because the kitchen is cold and the dough needs your hands — that feels like its own small act of stubbornness against whatever the week has thrown at you. After driving past the Weber land and making a pot of corned beef big enough to feed a small township, I found myself thinking about the Norwegian side of things, the part of our heritage that doesn’t get as many excuses to show up at the dinner table. Ebelskivers are Danish, technically, but they’re close enough to feel like ours — simple, a little rustic, impossible to mess up, and exactly the kind of thing you make on a Saturday morning when Jack is ferrying tomato seedlings in and out of the house and Noah is drawing go-kart diagrams and the spring is still only a rumor but a credible one.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6 (about 24 ebelskivers)

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp granulated sugar
2 large eggs, separated
2 cups buttermilk
4 tbsp unsalted butter, melted, plus more for the pan
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
Powdered sugar and jam, for serving

Instructions

Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar until combined.
Combine the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg yolks, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Make the batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined — a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix.
Beat the egg whites. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites with a hand mixer or whisk until stiff peaks form. Gently fold the beaten egg whites into the batter in two additions, keeping as much air as possible.
Heat the pan. Place an ebelskiver pan over medium heat. Add a small knob of butter and let it melt, tilting the pan to coat each cup. The butter should sizzle gently but not smoke.
Fill the cups. Spoon batter into each cup, filling about 3/4 full. Cook for 2—3 minutes until the bottoms are golden and the edges look set.
Turn and finish. Using a wooden skewer or chopstick, rotate each ebelskiver 90 degrees, allowing the uncooked batter to spill into the cup and form the round shape. Cook another minute, then rotate fully so the original bottom is now on top. Cook 1—2 minutes more until puffed, round, and cooked through.
Serve warm. Transfer to a plate and dust generously with powdered sugar. Serve immediately with jam, syrup, or fresh fruit on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ebelskivers {Puffy Danish Pancakes} — Baking Something Just Because You Can