Ricotta Pancakes

Hanukkah in quarantine. I lit the menorah alone — well, with Marvin beside me, but alone in the sense that I am the only one who knows it is Hanukkah, the only one who remembers the blessings, the only one for whom the flame means what it is supposed to mean: miracle, persistence, light in the darkness. Marvin watched the candles. He watches candles now the way babies watch candles — with pure fascination, no context, just the light, just the movement. The beauty of this is: the candles do not require context. The candles do not need you to understand Hanukkah. They need you to see the light. He sees the light.

I made latkes. I grated the potatoes myself — this is the second year without Marvin's grating — and I fried them in oil that sizzled and spattered and filled the kitchen with the smell that is December, my December, the December of a Jewish woman from the Bronx who measures the holiday not in presents but in pancakes. I made a full batch, ate three, and gave the rest to the Goldsteins through the garage door exchange we have developed: I leave food; they leave thanks; we never enter each other's houses; the pandemic has made every act of generosity an act of logistics.

I video-called Rebecca for candle-lighting. She held her menorah up to the screen and I held mine, and we lit candles simultaneously in two kitchens thirty miles apart, and the screens glowed with nine flames each, eighteen flames total, and the light from eighteen flames is considerable, even through a screen, even in a pandemic, even when the woman lighting them is exhausted and alone and sixty-three years old and caring for a man who does not know it is Hanukkah.

I did not tell the Hanukkah joke. The joke was Marvin's. The joke belongs to Marvin. I will not tell it in his place. The space where the joke would have been sat at the table like an empty chair, and I let it sit, because some absences are not to be filled. Some absences are to be respected. The joke is his. When he can no longer tell it, the joke retires. No understudy.

On the last night, I lit all eight candles plus the shamash and the dining room was bright — too bright for a room with only one person in it who understood the brightness, but bright nonetheless, and the brightness was its own argument: we are still here. The oil still burns. Not enough, and yet. And yet.

The latkes I made this year were not complicated — just potatoes, oil, and the particular stubbornness of a woman who will not let December pass without the smell of something frying on the stove. But once the holiday had passed and the menorah was put away, I found myself returning to the pan, wanting something that carried the same spirit of care and warmth without the full ceremony of it. These ricotta pancakes became that thing: golden at the edges, soft at the center, made slowly, made deliberately, made because making them means the kitchen is still alive and so am I and so is this day.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 12 pancakes)

Ingredients

1 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
Butter or neutral oil, for the pan
Maple syrup, fresh berries, or powdered sugar, to serve

Instructions

Separate the eggs. Place egg whites in a clean medium bowl and yolks in a large mixing bowl. Set both aside.
Mix the batter base. Add the ricotta, milk, egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla to the large bowl. Whisk together until smooth and well combined.
Add the dry ingredients. Sift in the flour, baking powder, and salt. Fold gently with a spatula until just incorporated — a few small lumps are fine. Do not overmix.
Whip the egg whites. Using a hand mixer or whisk, beat the egg whites to soft peaks. They should hold a gentle curve when the whisk is lifted.
Fold in the whites. Add the whipped whites to the batter in two additions, folding carefully each time to keep as much air as possible. The batter will be light and slightly billowy.
Heat the pan. Warm a non-stick skillet or griddle over medium-low heat. Add a small pat of butter or a thin film of oil and let it melt until shimmering but not smoking.
Cook the pancakes. Drop 3 tablespoons of batter per pancake onto the skillet. Cook until the edges look set and small bubbles appear across the surface, about 2 to 3 minutes. Flip gently and cook another 1 to 2 minutes until golden and cooked through.
Keep warm and repeat. Transfer finished pancakes to a low oven (200°F) on a baking sheet to stay warm while you cook the remaining batter, adding butter or oil to the pan between batches as needed.
Serve. Plate the pancakes warm with maple syrup, a dusting of powdered sugar, or fresh berries alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ricotta Pancakes — The Year I Grated the Potatoes Alone