Oh Williams-Sonoma, you make it look so easy. You dazzle me with luscious foods that look oh-so easy to make if I simply come into your store and drop a benjamin on some special tools and mixes. You say, “Oh yes, you too can look the part of a gourmet cook with no effort at all!” Usually I’m pretty good at resisting your tempting ways. Everyone knows that Sur La Table has better deals on kitchen supplies and it’s where the real cooks go. Besides, I’m a pretty fab cook and baker on my own accord and I own enough tools to outfit 1953 housewife with 6 kids and an executive husband who likes to entertain clients in the home. But none of this was enough to resist a sultry Ukrainian husband who looked down at your catalog we received in October and declared, “I want that!” pointing to your beautiful picture of perfectly rounded and stuffed Ebelskivers: Danish filled pancakes.
Now the Ukrainian isn’t much of an asker. He’s a giver, always bringing flowers, perfume and whatever else my little heart desires. Rarely does he ask for anything. So when he does, I truly do my best to deliver.
(Earlier in the day, I made homemade vanilla pudding to stuff the Ebelskivers. Sadly, I have no pictures of that. )
First order of business was to whip out the new KitchenAid Empire Red Artisan Stand Mixer we had bought the prior week. We had put it on our wedding registry as it seems you can no longer be married in America anymore without possessing such an appliance, but no one gave it to us. So we finally bit the bullet and bought it ourselves.
Here, the Ukrainian unpacks the KitchenAid. It is his rightful duty as a man to help out his wife who is cooking him beautiful stuffed pancakes. 😛
*Surely you realize that I am kidding here with the sexist tone of language.
Here I am working quite hard on mixing up the Ebelskiver batter. Unfortunately, there are no pics showing how 3 separate bowls are required to make these babies. One for the egg yolks, butter, and milk. A second for whipping up the egg whites (which then fell flat for me because I was juggling bowls.) And a 3rd to fold it all in together with the dry ingredients. Must buy more KitchenAid mixer bowls now. Oh wait, no. No more shopping for me anytime soon because I have been busy buying shoes (see post to come in the future)
Once I gave the batter a good whipping, mixing, and folding, I tasted it. Gross! Honest to God, I do not like Ebelskiver batter. My first temptation was to add more vanilla, maybe some sugar — anything to get rid of this oatey-barley-bitter flavor. But before I could reach into my pantry shelf for some nice sweets, the Ukrainian rushed, grabbed my arm, took it was from the sweets shelf, and had his own taste of the batter. “Ohhhh…this is good. Do. not. change. it” The Ukrainian loved the very flavor I had just choked on. And people wonder why we do not share so very many meals together? And why I don’t put on my 1953 wifely-talents to use more often?
And then I almost set the kitchen on fire
I followed the Williams-Sonoma instructions precisely. How could anything go wrong? Unfortunately, I don’t think the instructions took into account that I’d be using their very modern coated ebelskiver pan over a circa 1939 Wedgewood
open flame stove.
I tried reducing the amount of butter (thank god it wasn’t oil), and that did decrease the scariness factor in the cooking. But, in turn, it increased the burning factor of the ebelskivers. I was frightened that the Ukrainian would come in and see the brown-black ebelskivers with pudding leaking out of them and turn his nose up at them and then just politely eat one. That’s what I would’ve done. They looked pretty gross to me.
I called the Ukrainian into the kitchen for his sweets. But before I could even apologize for the sorry mess of his much-desired treats, the Ukrainian exclaimed, “Baby! Those look soooo good.” And, let me tell you, the Ukrainian wasn’t bullshitting. I know his bullshit. He has that beautiful Russian way of smiling and agreeing to everything good, when really he is thinking “No way in hell.”
I am pleased to report that out of 21 ebelskivers made on Sunday, the Ukrainian ate 10 of them that night. 5 on Monday morning. And the remaining 6 that Monday evening. Then, over the course of the next few 2 days, he ate all the remaining vanilla pudding — not once thinking I might want some pudding. He truly is a hero!