French Banana Pancakes

December. Hanukkah. I grated the potatoes myself — third year in a row. The grating has become mine now, absorbed into the expanding territory of things-Ruth-does-alone, which grows every month as Marvin's territory shrinks. I do not resent the grating. I do not resent any of it. Resentment is a luxury for people who have energy to spare, and I do not have energy to spare. I have energy for the grating and the frying and the blessing and the candle-lighting and the feeding and the cleaning, and after all of that the energy is gone, and what remains is not resentment but the particular numbness of a woman who has been running on devotion for three years and is too tired to feel anything except the weight of the potato in her hand.

Ethan helped light the menorah. He is getting good at it — eight years old, steady hands, the shamash held with confidence. Sophie, five, watched and learned. She will light it next year. The knowledge is being passed: grandmother to grandson, grandson to sister, the candle-lighting moving through the generations the way the recipes move, hand to hand, flame to flame.

Marvin watched. He smiles at candles. The disease has taken his understanding of Hanukkah but not his response to beauty, and the candles are beautiful, and the smile is real, and I have learned to separate the comprehension from the response and to value the response on its own terms. He does not know it is Hanukkah. He knows the light is beautiful. This is enough.

I made latkes for everyone. Three batches. The kitchen was a war zone of oil and potato and the sizzle that is December. Mrs. DeLuca came for latkes — the first time she's been in my house in two years. She sat at my table and ate latkes and told me about her Christmas preparations, and I told her about Hanukkah, and we are two old women in a kitchen sharing holidays the way we have shared holidays for twenty years, and the sharing is the whole point. The holidays are not for the observant. The holidays are for the shared. The latke does not care if you are Jewish. The latke cares that you are here.

I wrote about latkes and Mrs. DeLuca on the blog — about interfaith friendship expressed through fried food, about how a Catholic widow and a Jewish wife can sit at the same table and find in latkes and strudel the same message: we are here, we are fed, the oil burns, the light holds. The post was shared widely. Apparently, the world needs interfaith fried food stories. The world needs a lot of things. I can offer latkes and words. I offer both.

I do not always post the latke recipe itself—it lives in my hands more than on any page, and some things resist being written down. But when readers ask what they can make that carries the same spirit as a December kitchen full of sizzle and oil and the particular mercy of feeding people you love, I point them here: French Banana Pancakes, golden in a skillet the way latkes are golden, sweet where latkes are savory, but alive with the same heat and the same intention. Mrs. DeLuca, I think, would approve. The pan does not ask what holiday brought you to the table. It only asks that you show up.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 ripe bananas, mashed
2 large eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup milk
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, for the pan
Powdered sugar or maple syrup, for serving

Instructions

Mash the bananas. In a large mixing bowl, mash the ripe bananas until smooth with only small lumps remaining.
Mix the batter. Whisk the eggs into the mashed banana until fully combined. Add the flour, milk, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt, and stir until a cohesive batter forms. Do not overmix.
Heat the pan. Melt 1/2 tablespoon of butter in a skillet or griddle over medium heat. Swirl to coat the surface evenly. The butter should foam gently—not brown—before you begin.
Fry the pancakes. Pour approximately 3 tablespoons of batter per pancake into the skillet. Cook until bubbles form across the surface and the edges look set, about 2—3 minutes. Flip carefully and cook another 1—2 minutes until golden on the second side.
Repeat in batches. Transfer finished pancakes to a warm plate. Add butter to the pan between batches as needed and continue until all batter is used.
Serve. Dust with powdered sugar or drizzle with maple syrup. Serve immediately, while warm, to whoever has gathered at your table.

Nutrition (per serving)

French Banana Pancakes — The Sizzle That Says We Are Here