I'm an outlier when it comes to pancakes. An extreme one.
Where others see fluffy, I see a platter of cakey dough. Never mind the claim of "tender." Show me a stack of plate-size behemoths, and I have to avert my eyes.
As I said, I'm an outlier (we all have our quirks), though even I have an exception. If sausage links are involved, I've been known to indulge, because who doesn't love pigs in a blanket, whatever that blanket may be?
But I digress.
I do favor one version of the egg-milk-flour combo above all others: the Swedish pancake. I know, I know. Almost the same name, but definitely not the same flavor or texture, despite the similar ingredients.
Swedish pancakes are to traditional pancakes as regular burgers are to veggie burgers. That is, they vaguely look alike (they are both round), but few diners would mistake one for the other.
The Swedish version appears as thin and delicate as a crêpe, and could be mistaken for one. The traditional pancake is, well, the usual hot cake we see on the plate. And you know how I feel about that.
I grew up in a household that served both. When my mother reached for the box of Bisquick on a Saturday morning, we knew what we were getting (that would be regular pancakes in all their sturdiness). All of us at the table, that is, except me. I made toast.