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Ewing’s Mill Cornmeal Pancakes

Ewing’s Mill was a working, historic water-powered grist mill in our county when I was young.  At some point it closed, and remained so for several years.  Before plans to revive it could be brought to fruition an idiot drove his coal truck into the structure, doing considerable damage, and it again sat idle.  Finally, as final insult, a wealthy texan bought it, tore it down, and hauled the timbers away, leaving very little indication that it ever existed.  The recipe below does not quite match the delicious pancakes of my youth–most commercial cornmeal is not milled to as fine a texture as Ewing’s did, and vegetable shortening has changed over the years to accommodate new fears and understanding saturated fats.  Still, this recipe is better than most.  Real butter and quality maple syrup (not the stuff made from corn syrup) bring this breakfast to life.  Add some cinnamon and a teaspoon of vanilla for a change of pace.

Ewings Mill Corn Meal Pancakes

1½ C. flour
1 tsp. Salt
2 C. milk
¾ C. corn meal
2 T. sugar
½ C. melted shortening–we like butter flavored Crisco
4 ½ tsp. Baking powder
1 egg

Sift flour, measure and mix with other dry indgredients into a 3 qt. Mixing bowl.  Beat egg, add milk and pour all at once into dry ingredients.  Beat until smooth then add melted shortening.   Let sit about 10 minutes, heat a griddle until a drop of water dances on the surface.  Cook on medium heat until edges begin to dry, then flip.  Ready when golden.  Serve with butter and maple syrup.

 

By JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.

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