Aebleskiver isn’t part of my vocabulary. Able, perhaps. Skivvies, now and then. Aebleskiver, never. Nonetheless I recently acquired an aebleskiver pan, on purpose.
It looks like a round griddle, something that might come in handy when faced with a cold tortilla. Only it’s pocked with pockets. Seven semicircles. And these semicircles enticed me.
On vacation I found myself the party-planning consultant to the almost-8-year-old. One mesmerized–momentarily–by the game of pool. Leading, inevitably, to spherical 8-ball cupcakes. Necessitating the sphere-shaping pan.
After the birthday moment had passed, with its rack of meatballs and cue-stick breadsticks and billiard-chalk butter cubes, I was left with one chocolate-covered 8-year-old and one pocket-pocked pan.
Also no idea how to use it.
I baked some bumpy biscuits and scraped out some stubborn muffins and tossed the device in the luggage. Rest assured that the traveler packing a 6.2-pound pocket-pocked cast-iron aebleskiver pan will receive special attention from the Transportation Security Administration. Which will not, however, confiscate the pan. Landing me back home with certain unfinished business.
I shoved it on the shelf, next to the inefficient gravy separator. Until I came across a recipe for Danish pancakes, crisped in a pocket-pocked pan. I was delighted to learn that each globe should be flipped with a knitting needle–the sort of utensil I’ve always got on hand, even on vacation.
The aebleskiver (roughly “apple thingy”) often comes studded with apple. Though, in the tradition of all traditions, the habit is hotly debated. Some contingents staunchly defend a hollow balloon, others a stuffed-pillow approach.
My pancakes popped out of the pan delicious. Golden outside and fluffy inside, enhanced with sticky sweet swirls. Sort of a filled doughnut hole, a concept too convoluted for the non-physicist.
The pancake puff made me feel competent, as though I were able to sink an 8-ball in the proper pocket. Lucky too, in the tradition of that other 8-ball, the one popular at the birthday sleepover. The inquisitive guest poses a question to the all-knowing orb. Like: “Will I figure out how to use this pan?” From the murky deep rises the answer: It is decidedly so.
PANCAKES PUFFS
Makes about 40
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
4 eggs
2 cups milk
10 tablespoons butter, melted
3/4 cup applesauce or apple/apricot sauce
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1. Sift: Sift flour, salt and baking powder into a large mixing bowl.
2. Mix: Separate eggs. Briefly whisk together yolks and milk. Pour liquid over dry ingredients. Using a rubber spatula, fold gently, ignoring lumps. Drizzle on 8 tablespoons melted butter (reserve the rest for greasing the pan) and fold in.
3. Fluff: Beat whites sturdy. Carefully fold into batter.
4. Fill: Heat an aebleskiver pan (also called abelskiver, ebelskiver, munk or filled-pancake pan) over medium. Brush each well generously with melted butter. Spoon 1 tablespoon batter into each well. Drop 1 teaspoon applesauce into the center of each pancake. Cover with another 1 tablespoon batter.
6. Crisp: Cook until bottoms are golden crisp and tops are dotted with bubbles, 5 minutes. Use a knitting needle (or wooden skewer) to flip spherical cakes. Brown other side, 2 minutes. Brush wells with butter again before making the next round. Enjoy warm.
7. Improvise: An aebleskiver pan is surprisingly easy to come by-try the cooking catalog, Scandinavian market or hardware store. Lacking pan, make standard pancakes using 2 tablespoons batter per; serve with sauce. Not as cute, but still good. Feel free to experiment with fillings: lingonberries, raspberry jam, nutella or mascarpone cheese all make delicious, if unorthodox, middles.
Provenance: I got this recipe from my friend Sarah Richardson, who got it from her mother-in-law, Ethel Kjaer Barker, who got it from her aunt, Edelia Christensen. Barker never ever fills her aebleskiver.
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