Pepper Jack Potato Pancakes -- The Crispy, Buttery Thing Writing Reminded Me to Make

One year. I've been writing this for one year — fifty-two weeks of recipes and weather and the particular texture of life in Duluth, Minnesota, as seen from the kitchen of a fifty-three-year-old nurse with a husband who reads about shipwrecks and a dog who eats off the floor and a mother who thinks I use too little cardamom. I didn't think I'd keep doing it. When I started, I was writing because I couldn't sleep, because the house was quiet and the keyboard was there and the words came out like water from a tap I didn't know was open. I didn't think anyone would read it. I didn't think anyone would care about my mother's meatballs or my blueberry pie or the way the fog sounds on the lake at night. But people read it. People wrote to me. A woman in Iowa said my wild rice soup recipe saved her Thanksgiving. A man in Oregon said the post about Lars made him call his brother for the first time in two years. A woman in Duluth — in Duluth, my own city — said she recognized the description of the ice caves and went to see them because I made them sound worth seeing, and they were. These messages sit in my inbox like small gifts, unexpected and deeply valued. I'm going to keep writing. Not because I have anything figured out — I'm fifty-three, which is old enough to know that you never have anything figured out and young enough to keep trying. I'm going to keep writing because the kitchen is still here and the recipes are still here and the people I cook for are still here, most of them, and the ones who aren't are still in the food. The meatballs are Mamma's. The pot roast is Paul's. The blueberry pie is mine. The limpa bread is Pappa's. They're all still here, in the steam and the smell and the taste. They're all still here. I made something new this week — new for me, which means probably ancient. Raggmunk — Swedish potato pancakes, grated potato mixed with flour and egg, fried in butter until crisp, served with lingonberry jam and bacon. They're the Swedish version of latkes, essentially, and they're perfect: crispy outside, soft inside, the bacon salty, the lingonberries tart, the butter tying everything together. Paul ate four and said, "You've never made these before." I said, "Mamma used to make them when we were kids. I forgot about them until this week." He said, "What reminded you?" I said, "Writing. Writing reminds you of things." That's the truth. Writing is remembering. And cooking is remembering. And maybe they're the same thing — different languages for the same act of reaching back and pulling something forward and setting it on the table and saying: here. This is what I have. This is where I'm from. This is who I love. Here's the recipe. Here's the year. Here's the woman in the kitchen at 5:30 AM with coffee and a dog and a husband asleep in the next room and a lake outside the window that has been there for ten thousand years. Here I am. Year two begins.

Writing this post brought Mamma’s raggmunk back to me so completely that I couldn’t do anything but make them — a small act of reaching back, the way I talked about, and setting something real on the table. I kept the spirit of hers but added pepper jack, because this is who I am now: still her daughter, but with my own kitchen and my own fifty-two weeks behind me. If you’ve never made raggmunk before, I promise it’s simpler than it sounds, and the result is exactly what year 52 called for.

Pepper Jack Potato Pancakes (Raggmunk-Style)

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 lbs russet potatoes (about 4 medium), peeled
• 1/2 medium yellow onion
• 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 2 oz pepper jack cheese, shredded (optional — omit for a more traditional raggmunk)
• 3 tbsp unsalted butter, divided, plus more as needed
• 1 tbsp neutral oil (such as canola)
• 8 strips thick-cut bacon, cooked until crisp, for serving
• Lingonberry jam, for serving
• Sour cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

1. Grate the potatoes and onion. Using the large holes of a box grater or a food processor, grate the peeled potatoes and onion into a large bowl. Working in batches, wrap the grated mixture in a clean kitchen towel and wring out as much liquid as possible — the drier the mixture, the crispier your pancakes.
2. Make the batter. Transfer the wrung-out potato mixture to a clean bowl. Add the beaten eggs, flour, salt, pepper, and shredded pepper jack cheese if using. Stir until everything is evenly combined. The mixture will be loose but should hold together when pressed.
3. Heat the pan. In a large cast-iron or heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat, melt 1 1/2 tbsp of the butter with the oil. The combination prevents burning while still delivering that rich butter flavor.
4. Fry the first batch. Scoop about 1/3 cup of potato mixture per pancake into the skillet, pressing each one gently into a round about 1/3-inch thick. Do not crowd the pan — work in batches of 3 or 4. Fry undisturbed for 4—5 minutes, until the edges look golden and set.
5. Flip and finish. Flip each pancake carefully and cook another 3—4 minutes until the second side is deep golden brown and the center is cooked through. Transfer to a wire rack or a baking sheet in a 200°F oven to keep warm while you fry the remaining pancakes, adding more butter as needed between batches.
6. Season and serve. Season the finished pancakes lightly with flaky salt. Serve immediately with crisp bacon, a spoonful of lingonberry jam alongside, and sour cream if you like. The contrast of salty bacon, tart lingonberries, and buttery potato is the whole point.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg