Lemon Ricotta Pancakes
On September 18, 2012 by sixtyacrebakerThe best part about these pancakes is that there is none of that pesky egg-white whipping and delicate folding. With their butter-crisp edges and billowy lemony insides, these pancake say i’m sorry and you’re welcome all at the same time.
Lemon Ricotta Pancakes
1/2 cup ricotta
1 Tbs lemon zest
2 Tbs lemon juice
2 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup fine corn meal (floury kind)
1 cup all purpose flour
6 Tbs sugar
Whisk together the flour, corn flour, sugar, salt and baking soda. In a separate bowl whisk together the ricotta, lemon zest, lemon juice, eggs and buttermilk. Stir the dry into the wet a bit at a time, to minimize lumps. Stir slowly, and just to get all the ingredients incorporated. Allow to sit about 5 minutes while you heat up the pan. I like to use butter to cook my pancakes, and i like it to get a bit brown before laying down the batter. But these pancakes are even delicious with pan spray. I suggest pureed fruit, fruit syrup or a glaze made with lemon juice and powdered sugar as a topper.
Pockets Full Of Gold
On September 6, 2012 by sixtyacrebakerI‘m fresh from a long hot bath irresponsibly hot, irresponsibly long. Washing the day’s dust and doubt. You see, today Mike and I inked the deal. The Deal. The deal that moves us from the cloud side of the rainbow to the pot of gold. 1988. The year I graduated college. Freshly minted diploma in hand and the world at my feet. This same year I was certain a 100 year old farmhouse on 10 acres in small town Montana, found in the classifieds, was my perfect next step. You may have guessed; instead of the house on the range, I moved back home and picked up a dumpy rental with friends. I started my professional journey; a fabulous time with great stories, interesting triumphs, love. Mike and I have been talking about a different life since the day we met. The type of life imagined
as a fresh faced grad. These many years later, it is happening. Rather than a two story farmhouse, in a corner of Montana; we are closing on, a doll of a house, perched on a hilltop, presiding over 60 acres and a trio of yaks.
Today we walked the land with the seller. We crossed from one end to the next, down a sloping trail walked by natives, missionaries, herds of cattle, wild pigs, landowners, trail horses, and now us. Mike and I both agree we should make this walk daily; filling our boots with dust, our lungs with fresh breath, and our proverbial pockets with gold.