Who knew that sweet potato pancakes could cause such consternation in the kitchen? Not I. The recipe for sweet potato pancakes in the Tupelo Honey cookbook I reviewed last week is misleading. It wasn't until I landed near the bottom that I read the part about letting the batter sit for an hour before you throw the batter into your frying pan.
My fault, completely. But I'm not one of those cooks who reads the recipe through before cooking. I'm one of the by-the-seat-of-her-pants types. Or in writing, when it comes to plot and planning, I'd be referred to the organic type.
I'm not the kind who gets her mis en place in place, either. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I compensate.
A warning near the title about prep time would be nice. Otherwise, the sweet potato pancake was lovely in the mouth. Tasted like autumn crunching and crackling and warming the tongue. Didn't go to all the trouble of making the accompaniments like peach butter and pecan all the rest. I'm just not that fancy. I needed my sweet potato pancake now, Now, NOW. Forget the rest. I dressed mine with my favorite light corn syrup because I'm not a fan of maple anything.
Doubt I'd make it in Vermont a season at all.
So here's the real problem that they don't mention either. And maybe when you have professional griddle/cookstove, this isn't a problem. When you add sweet potatoes to batter, it changes the consistency to such an extent that your pancake makin', booty-shakin' flipping and cooking skills are thrown out of whack.
I prepped the batter and turned the cooking over to Ian. Our division of labor in the kitchen goes like this: As to breakfast foods he cooks pancakes and waffle cooking and I make the batter. When we eat french toast I make it all. I'm the Queen biscuit maker/baker as well. However, I let him make my eggs over-easy because he cooks them better than I can 2 out of 3 times.
He burned the first batch of sweet potato pancakes because he poured it batter into a dry non-stick skillet. Dur. Yeah. Told him to pour a bit of oil in there. He did, and still had a bit of trouble because the tell-tale bubbling he looks for that alerts him to flip it over didn't happen.
The pancakes burnt on the outside but were uncooked on the inside. Perhaps it was our error. Or perhaps a bit of cooking instruction could have helped. Also, I mentioned to Ian that he should pour out 1/3 a cup of batter into the pan per pancake. It looked as if our pancakes were larger, perhaps.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Oh well. Better luck next time.
Elsa watched from her standard seat at the gathering table in the center of our kitchen. I broiled toast for her. She won't touch pancakes or waffles. French toast, either. Picky, picky.