I didn’t grow up calling them classic potato pancakes.
They were just… pancakes. Savory ones. The good kind. The kind that crackle when they hit hot oil and immediately make your kitchen smell like comfort and questionable life choices.
The kind that make you forget emails exist.
The first time I really noticed potato pancakes, I was standing in my Queens apartment kitchen at like 10:47 p.m., wearing socks that didn’t match (on brand), grating potatoes aggressively because I was mad about something dumb. Probably the subway. Or autocorrect. Or both.
You ever cook like that? Not hungry-hungry. Emotionally hungry.
That’s when potato pancakes show up.
Why Classic Potato Pancakes Are a Personality Trait
Let’s be honest: anyone who loves classic potato pancakes loves them.
This isn’t casual food. This is “I’ll burn my fingers flipping them because I don’t want to wait” food.
Crispy edges. Soft centers. A little onion sneaking in like it knows it’s not the star but still wants credit. Salt doing the bare minimum but doing it well.
I’ve had fancy brunches. Linen napkins. Twenty-dollar eggs.
Still coming back to potato pancakes.
The First Time I Completely Messed Them Up
Back in… I don’t know, early adulthood? I tried to make homemade potato pancakes and thought:
“Oil temperature probably doesn’t matter.”
Narrator: It mattered.
They soaked up oil like a sponge with abandonment issues. Limp. Pale. Sad.
I stared at them and actually said out loud,
“Who raised you?”
Still ate them. Still learned something.
What Makes Classic Potato Pancakes Actually Good
It’s Not About Precision
This isn’t baking macarons. No one’s checking your ratios with a microscope.
It Is About Squeezing the Potatoes
This part matters. A lot. You gotta get the water out. Like you’re wringing out a bad day.
I use a clean dish towel. Sometimes paper towels when I’m lazy. It’s fine.
Oil Is Not the Enemy
Fearless oil. Medium-high heat. Let them sizzle. Let them live.
My Very Loose, Very Real Classic Potato Pancake Method
Not a recipe. A vibe.
- Potatoes (russet, usually, but honestly? Use what you’ve got)
- Onion (optional but highly encouraged)
- Egg
- Flour or matzo meal if that’s your thing
- Salt. Pepper. Trust your gut.
Grate everything. Squeeze it dry. Mix it all together until it looks like something you’d fry.
Drop spoonfuls into hot oil. Flatten slightly. Walk away just enough to not mess with them.
Flip when they tell you they’re ready. You’ll know.
Potato Pancakes Are a Mood Food
They show up when:
- You don’t know what’s for dinner
- You have three potatoes and zero plans
- It’s raining
- It’s not raining but you wish it was
They’re forgiving. They don’t judge. They reheat surprisingly well (air fryer supremacy).
The Queens Factor (Because Of Course)
Living in Queens means food opinions are loud.
Everyone’s grandmother did it differently. Everyone’s way is the only way.
And honestly? That energy fits classic potato pancakes perfectly.
They don’t belong to one culture or one kitchen. They just… exist. Everywhere. Comforting everyone equally.
Things I’ve Learned the Hard Way
- Too wet = sad pancakes
- Too much flour = dense pancakes
- Not enough salt = regret
- Flipping too early = chaos
Also: make more than you think you need. They disappear.
Things That Go Well While Eating Potato Pancakes
- Old episodes of The Great British Bake Off (comfort meets comfort)
- Texting someone a photo with “I made these 😌”
- Standing at the counter like a raccoon guarding food
If you want a reliable comfort-food rabbit hole, Smitten Kitchen has never let me down. Not once.
Why I Keep Coming Back to Classic Potato Pancakes
Because they don’t pretend to be anything else.
They show up when you need them.
And honestly? That’s more than enough.
Now go grate some potatoes. Or don’t. But if you do—make extra.
You’re gonna want them.
