Matzo Meal Pancakes

I turned sixty-three on Sunday. April twelfth, the same day as always, though this year the birthday felt different — not because sixty-three is a significant number (it is not; sixty-three is a number between sixty-two and sixty-four, and its only distinction is that it belongs to me) but because birthdays in quarantine are strange. David and Jennifer and the children drove by the house and honked and held signs that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUBBE in the children's handwriting, and I stood on the front lawn and waved and cried, because a drive-by birthday is both a celebration and an acknowledgment that we cannot touch the people we love, and the not-touching is a grief I did not expect from a pandemic — I expected fear, I expected inconvenience, I did not expect the physical ache of seeing my grandchildren through a car window and not being able to hold them.

Rebecca sent flowers — not hydrangeas like David, but a wildflower bouquet that was messy and colorful and very Rebecca. She called and sang happy birthday in a voice that is technically terrible but emotionally perfect, and we talked for an hour about getting older and about Chekhov's birthday (January 29th, in case you were wondering, and yes, I know Chekhov's birthday, and yes, this says something about me that I am choosing not to examine). Miriam called from Tel Aviv. Marvin said, "Happy birthday, Ruth," which David may or may not have prompted by phone an hour earlier, but the words came from Marvin's mouth and that is what counts.

I made my own birthday cake — a honey cake, because I did not want chocolate or vanilla, I wanted the taste of Rosh Hashanah, the taste of new beginnings, the taste of a year being wished sweet. Sixty-three years old. Quarantine. A husband who said my name. Grandchildren in a car, waving. A sister in Tel Aviv. A daughter who sings badly. A son who sends hydrangeas. A cake that tastes like honey and hope. It is not the birthday I would have chosen. It is the birthday I have. And it is, in its strange, constrained, unprecedented way, enough. The cake is sweet. The year will be what it will be. I eat the cake and I begin.

The honey cake I made for myself that Sunday was not a grand production — it was a quiet one, the kind you make in your own kitchen with no one watching, because the ritual of it matters more than the audience. I have been thinking since then about the other recipes I return to when I need to feel rooted: the ones that taste like history, like continuity, like proof that something has been passed forward. These matzo meal pancakes are that kind of recipe for me — simple enough to make alone, meaningful enough to feel like an occasion, and just sweet enough to remind you that beginning again is always possible.

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

Ingredients

1 cup matzo meal
3 large eggs, beaten
3/4 cup warm water
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon (optional, but recommended)
2–3 tablespoons vegetable oil or schmaltz, for frying
Sour cream, applesauce, or honey, for serving

Instructions

Mix the batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together the beaten eggs, warm water, sugar, salt, and cinnamon if using. Add the matzo meal and stir until fully combined. Let the batter rest for 5 minutes so the matzo meal absorbs the liquid and thickens slightly.
Heat the pan. Warm a large skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add the oil and heat until it shimmers but does not smoke.
Form and fry the pancakes. Drop heaping tablespoonfuls of batter into the skillet, gently flattening each one with the back of a spoon to about 1/3-inch thickness. Do not crowd the pan — work in batches of 3 or 4.
Cook until golden. Fry for 3–4 minutes on the first side, until the edges are set and the underside is deep golden brown. Flip carefully and cook another 2–3 minutes on the second side. Adjust heat as needed so they brown without burning.
Drain and keep warm. Transfer finished pancakes to a plate lined with paper towels. Keep warm in a low oven (200°F) while you fry the remaining batches, adding a small amount of oil to the pan between batches as needed.
Serve. Arrange on a platter and serve warm with sour cream, applesauce, or a generous drizzle of honey. They are best eaten immediately, while the edges are still a little crisp.

Nutrition (per serving)

Matzo Meal Pancakes — The Taste of Tradition When You Need It Most