Gingerbread Pancakes

September came in like it meant business. The mornings are cooler now — not cool, this is still Kentucky — but the edge of the heat has dulled and there's something in the air that says the season is turning whether you're ready or not. I'm always ready. Fall is when Appalachian cooking makes the most sense, when the heavy food that seems crazy in July becomes exactly right: the beans, the stews, the biscuits, the things that warm you from the center out.

Amber called Wednesday night. She's been at UK Hospital for two years now, working the pediatric floor, and she told me about a kid who came in from somewhere in Eastern Kentucky — eight years old, malnutrition, the kind of poverty that people in Lexington don't think exists sixty miles from their bourbon bars. Amber was upset, not crying upset but the quiet upset that means it went deeper than crying. I listened. I didn't offer solutions because there are no solutions I can offer a nurse dealing with a sick child from a poor county. But I know that world. I grew up in that world. I told her that kid has people who love him even if they can't feed him right, and sometimes love doesn't look like enough but it's what there is. She was quiet for a minute and then said thanks, Dad. I said you're doing good work, baby. She is. She is doing the best work any Hensley has ever done.

My back seized twice this week — once bending to tie my boots Monday morning, once climbing out of the truck Thursday afternoon. Both times I stood frozen in that crooked position where your body has locked and your brain is sending signals that aren't getting through. The second time, Danny saw me and didn't say anything, just handed me a board to lean on until I could straighten up. Good man, Danny. Knows when to help and when to pretend he didn't see.

Made a big pot of pinto beans Saturday — first pot of the fall season, feels like. Soaked overnight Friday, simmered all day Saturday with a smoked ham hock and onion and garlic. Cornbread in Betty's skillet. Chow-chow on the side. Connie ate two bowls and said the beans were right, by which she meant the ratio of salt to smoke to creamy was where it should be. I called Betty that evening and told her the beans were good this year. She said they're always good. You just have to cook them slow and leave them alone. She wasn't talking about beans.

Saturday wasn’t just a bean day — it started earlier than that, before Connie was up, with the kind of morning where you want something that smells like the season before you even decide what the season means to you. After the week I’d had — the back, Amber’s phone call, Danny handing me that board without a word — I needed the kitchen to do some of the work for me. Gingerbread pancakes are what I go to when fall announces itself and I want to meet it properly: molasses, warm spice, something that fills the house before the beans even go on. Betty would approve.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/3 cup unsulfured molasses
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Butter or neutral oil, for the griddle
Maple syrup and powdered sugar, for serving

Instructions

Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, molasses, brown sugar, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth and well blended.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined. Do not overmix — a few lumps are fine. Let the batter rest 5 minutes while the griddle heats.
Heat the griddle. Set a cast-iron skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add a small pat of butter or a light coat of oil. The surface is ready when a drop of water skitters and evaporates immediately.
Cook the pancakes. Pour about 1/4 cup batter per pancake onto the griddle. Cook until bubbles form across the surface and the edges look set, about 2 to 3 minutes. Flip and cook 1 to 2 minutes more until cooked through and deep golden brown.
Serve. Transfer to a warm plate and continue with remaining batter. Serve with maple syrup and a dusting of powdered sugar.

Nutrition (per serving)

Gingerbread Pancakes — The Smell of Fall Before the Beans Are Even Done