My dad grew up in Madawaska, Maine, close to the border of Canada. In fact, he was actually born in Canada since that’s where the nearest hospital was located. Ployes, or French buckwheat pancakes were a staple of his childhood and mine too. My dad used to have his sisters ship ploye mix to Nashville, and we often ate them at dinner rolled up with butter and brown sugar. My Dad is up in Maine for his high-school reunion this week, and my mom told me is enjoying ployes everywhere he goes. I laughed and told her I hadn’t eaten a ploye in years, and so we decided to celebrate Pancake Sunday with a big batch of ployes in honor of my dad.
First, we measured out about a cup of the flour…and by we, I mean my mom. She did all the work. Thanks mom!
and then she whisked in hot water until the batter reached a very thin consistency…
We then cooked 7 ployes in my mom’s special ploye-only skillet over low heat. That’s it!
Not quite the ployes of my youth, but pretty darn tasty!
Thanks for the inspiration dad, and I hope you’re having a wonderful trip! See you when you get home.