I need a break. A time out from my life. Just a few months, maybe, to live someone else’s. Or, better, to live in someone else’s body. Everything will stay the same — the gorgeous husband, the fledgling business, the blog, the family, the happiness I feel about everything except my health.

While in my borrowed body — let’s give me about a year — I’ll do the things that I’ve been thinking about so much lately. I’ll play in the snow with my dog. I’ll organize spontaneous outings with my husband — maybe even hop on a plane for a few days of swimming in the Caribbean. And I’ll definitely partake in the best New Year’s resolution that I’ve ever heard of: Molly Wizenberg’s decision to enjoy more breakfasts in 2011.

With my current body, mornings are a wash-out. I wake up late due to restless nights. I need to stretch, and ice, and pop a pain pill just to sit through my morning coffee and a possible bowl of Raisin Bran. Cooking, if I am lucky, comes later in the day, once I’ve begun to manage the pain.

So this new body is crucial if I intend to wake up and make these griddlecakes as often as I’d like. As yet, we’ve only eaten them for dinner. They transfer flawlessly from breakfast to dinner — made with whole wheat flour for a savory-ness that’s wonderfully dinner-friendly – but I imagine (often) that these griddlecakes would be the perfect pick-me-up early in the morning (the time that I would be waking my new body up), with a cup of dark coffee, slatherings of butter, generous drizzles of maple syrup, caramelized apples, boiled kale, and thick smoked bacon.

We found a bag of the dry ingredients (kind of like gourmet Bisquik) in the pantry at Riverstead bed and breakfast, in Chilhowie, Tennessee, on the final (and favorite) leg of our honeymoon.  I’m not sure why they said the ingredients would make “griddlecakes” rather than pancakes, as all the research I’ve tried to dig up on the subject says the same, ambiguous thing: “American or Canadian pancakes (sometimes called hotcakes, griddlecakes, or flapjacks) are pancakes which contain a raising agent such as baking powder; proportions of eggs, flour, and milk or buttermilk create a thick batter.” A wikipedia search for “griddlecakes” even redirects to the pancake page.

My own understanding of griddlecakes vs. pancakes is that griddlecakes are made with whole wheat flour or some other whole grain flour, and are made smaller and thinner (less fluffy or cake like) than pancakes — but I don’t know where this knowledge comes from, as some things you come to know during your life have hazy, forgotten origins. I do know, though, why they are called Sweet Carolina griddlecakes — the whole wheat flour in the batter is Anson Mills Sweet Carolina whole wheat graham flour. You can buy Anson Mills whole wheat graham flour online, along with a bag of their fine cloth-bolted white flour, which goes into the batter as well.

The rest of the ingredients are the same that you would use for any other pancake, griddlecake, or hotcake batter: milk or water, an egg, baking powder, and salt. You prepare them exactly as you would any other recipe, too, making them as small as silver dollars, or as big as dinner plates. I like to rub butter all over the griddle before ladling on the batter; it browns as the griddlecake cooks, and brown butter is particularly delicious on whole wheat griddlecakes.

With this new body, I’d like to make lots of breakfast recipes, especially those from the new addition to my cookbook shelf, but these griddlecakes would make a weekly appearance on the morning table, at least.

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Whole-Wheat Griddlecakes

Adapted from the Anson Mill’s website, Makes 10-12 griddlecakes
(You can buy pre-made packages of the griddlecake dry ingredients here.)

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1 cup Anson Mills Antebellum-Style Graham Flour
½ cup Anson Mills Fine Cloth-Bolted Pastry Flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 large egg
1 ¼ cups milk or water, or a combination of both

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, or more, as needed

Put all ingredients except butter together in a medium bowl, whisking with a fork until just combined. Set an electric griddle on high, or place a large skillet over high heat. Rub some butter onto griddle or pan. Ladle however much batter you’d like onto the griddle (I usually use about ½ of a ladle-full, for small griddlecakes), trying to make the batter fom a circular shape (though non-circular ones are charming in a adorably-ditzy housewife way). Let cook until the edges are looking cooked and you see a couple of small bubbles rising to the top-side of the griddlecake. Lift griddlecake with a spatula, quickly rub some more butter on the griddle, and flip. Cook for another minute or two, until the other side begins to brown, then rub some butter on the side facing up, flip and repeat. (This butter-rubbing makes for deliciously crisp sides.) Transfer griddlecake to a platter and begin again. (Even though I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, I usually slide a tiny pat of butter above the griddlecake on the platter, so that each griddlecake added to the platter will sit atop some butter, and then have more butter laid atop of it, creating the perfect stack of griddlecakes and pats of butter.)

Serve with lots of good maple syrup.

Note: I don’t have true recipes for the caramelized apples and the kale, but if you would like to make them, follow these loose guidelines.

For the apples:

Peel and chop 4 granny smith apples, then place them in a bowl and sprinkle some lemon juice over them to keep them bright and crisp. Add a good knob of butter to a pan and melt it over medium heat. Add some sugar, about a fourth to a half cup, and let the sugar caramelize in the butter for a while, 10 minutes maybe. Once the sugar turns a nice amber color, add the apples. Cook them, stirring occassionally, until they are tender on the inside, with caramelized outsides — be careful not to break them up while you stir. Use a light hand and a silicone spatula. Add some cinnamon towards the end.

For the kale:

Buy some good kale at a farmers market or decent grocery — nothing with wilted leafs or huge, thick stems. Prepare the kale by stripping the leaves from the stems (my dog loves to eat the stems) and tearing the leaves into small pieces. Wash in a salad spinner and then add kale to a pot or dutch oven. Add water — for a bunch of kale I add about two cups of water or homemade chicken stock — and a good knob of butter and begin cooking kale over medium-low heat. Cover, let cook for a while, 20-30 minutes, then uncover, add a good pinch of salt, and continue cooking until almost all of the water is gone and the kale is silky, tender, and delicious.