Soft and Fluffy Gingerbread Pancakes with Ginger Molasses Maple Syrup

Christmas at the cottage. Third year. The routine is polished now: truck packed Wednesday, drive Thursday, arrive at dusk, Mama at the screen door. The kids don't need to be told what to do anymore — Luc carries boxes, Colette organizes the kitchen, Rémy runs to the bayou and has to be called back three times. This is muscle memory. This is family.

Réveillon this year was the biggest yet. Mama went all out: gumbo, roast pork, oyster dressing (a Cajun classic I hadn't had in years — oysters and rice and trinity, baked until the edges crisp and the center is creamy), bread pudding, pecan pie. I contributed brisket and sweet potato pie. Angelle brought wine. Pierre brought a bottle of something from a guy in Donaldsonville that was either whiskey or gasoline, and we drank it anyway, and it was fine, and our throats survived.

Midnight mass. Same church. Same hymns. Same feeling of being held by something larger than the building, larger than the parish, larger than the 250-year story of a people who lost their home and built a new one and kept singing in French even when the world said stop. Rémy stayed awake this year — the whole mass. He sat still and listened, and I don't know what a six-year-old hears in a midnight mass, but whatever it was, it kept him quiet, and quiet Rémy is a rare and beautiful thing.

Christmas morning gifts, Christmas afternoon naps, Christmas evening leftovers. Luc: new phone (the battle is lost; the teenager has a phone). Colette: a real easel and canvases (she cried). Rémy: a cast-iron skillet, kid-sized, that I found at an antique store in Breaux Bridge. He held it with both hands and said, "Now I can make a roux." He can't. Not yet. But the skillet is his, and the intention is there, and the chain is one link longer. Joyeux Noël.

Réveillon runs late and Christmas morning comes early, and somewhere in between you need something that fills the kitchen with the kind of smell that pulls sleepy children out of bed without a fight. These gingerbread pancakes — soft, warmly spiced, drizzled with a ginger molasses syrup that tastes like every good December memory folded into one — are what I made the morning after midnight mass while Rémy clutched his new cast-iron skillet and watched from his chair. He can’t make a roux yet, but he can pour syrup, and that’s a start.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6 (about 12 pancakes)

Ingredients

For the Pancakes:

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 and 3/4 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the Ginger Molasses Maple Syrup:

1 cup pure maple syrup
2 tablespoons molasses
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Make the syrup. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine the maple syrup, molasses, butter, ginger, cinnamon, and salt. Stir until the butter melts and everything is well combined. Keep warm on the lowest heat setting while you make the pancakes.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, molasses, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined. A few small lumps are fine — do not overmix or the pancakes will be tough.
Heat the griddle. Heat a griddle or large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Lightly grease with butter or cooking spray. The pan is ready when a drop of water sizzles and evaporates on contact.
Cook the pancakes. Pour about 1/3 cup of batter per pancake onto the griddle. Cook until bubbles form on the surface and the edges look set, about 2 to 3 minutes. Flip and cook for another 1 to 2 minutes until golden brown on both sides and cooked through.
Serve warm. Stack the pancakes and drizzle generously with the ginger molasses maple syrup. Top with a pat of butter and a light dusting of powdered sugar if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Soft and Fluffy Gingerbread Pancakes with Ginger Molasses Maple Syrup — Christmas Morning After the Réveillon