When I worked at the Five Spot in Seattle, I prepped a lot of food. One of my tasks was making buttermilk pancake batter in big five gallon buckets for the next day’s brunch. As this was a restaurant kitchen, about half of my numerous coworkers were Latino, mostly Mexican. Their varying levels of English competency made for some amusing spellings of commonly used items; the one that always stuck with me was “pankey”, scrawled in black sharpie on the batter bucket. Now I always think of pancakes as pankey.

I made myself some pankey a couple of weeks ago, and holy Moses, were they ever good. “Melt-in-your-mouth” is a phrase that gets tossed around a lot, and is usually grounds for suspicion (it seems most frequently employed in reference to heavily processed, heavily marketed food). These, however, merited that designation, in the best way possible. I don’t remember exactly how I made them; I do know that they involved sour cream, heavy cream, whole-wheat pastry flour, flax seeds and wheat-germ as a nod to health, and were fried in a shitload of butter. I ate the whole batch and felt ill for the rest of the day, but it was worth it.



About ea

Reluctant technophile, immoderate lover of words, food, cogitation, the sensory world. We are not done evolving and there is no free will.
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2 Responses to Pankey

  1. Belinda says:

    I could taste the pankeys and smell them cooking on that beautiful skillet.

  2. Jill Henderson says:

    Glad to see you’er enjoying Aunt Kay’s cast-iron skillet. I love that skillet…it always made the best suthin’ cornbread!

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