Stacks on Deck
If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, then pancakes inspire my life as a cook.
The heat this week is a strong contender to June’s hottest month on Earth. Part of me just wants to spend my days in the kitchen. The weather must be affecting the way my brain is functioning, or not. Fresh out the frying pan and into the fryer I went from walking to Whole Foods when the air quality in Gowanus Brooklyn was at ‘f- you’ degrees Celsius and the noise pollution was at a blaring ‘go f- yourself’ from the idling cement truck at the foot of the 3rd Street bridge. My noise canceling headphones were no match for the formidable ear piercing of the trucks, plus the drilling and hammering from the three active surrounding construction sites. I had an initial idea to listen to Mama’s Gun, the album by Erykah Badu, on my commute, but I had to pause it immediately. No soothing melodies or healing words could soften the blow of a walk to the grocery store.
What’s for breakfast? What’s for lunch? What’s for dinner? Three courses, every day. Each one is planned as one is devoured. Today is Bastille Day, and I have to bring something to the festivities in Bedford Stuyvesant later. The Earl Grey Tea Loaf recipe from The New York Times Cooking app will have to do. I don’t have a proper French dessert in my baking repertoire yet, but the guests should appreciate this cake’s blend of lavender, dark chocolate and orange zest despite it not having any historic or cultural significance. I just learned that French Earl Grey is a tea blend with rose petals; adding to my shopping list. Bake what you know, and what brings joy. “This is what baking is about… feeling good wafting along in the warm, sweet-smelling air, unwinding, no longer being entirely an office creature,” wrote Nigella Lawson in How To Be A Domestic Goddess: Baking and the Art of Comfort Cooking. Spending unnecessary time in the kitchen is in some way therapy for me. An escape to create something that brings fulfillment or nourishment. It’s a place where things end more wholly than they start. I could say the same thing about my other hobby of building LEGO. Granted, baking is also a form of procrastination. I could say the same thing about my other hobby of building LEGO. Meanwhile, I have other ideas churning on the back burner. I’m a maker at the end of the day. And while I don’t work a traditional job, the things I create: LEGO models, various meals, curated DJ sets are all reminders that I have valuable skills.
I have had an itch to go outside of my comfort zone because of the monotony of some of my cooking. In February my wife / life partner became a vegan, minus the occasional piece of sushi, or nibble of my pizza. It has opened me up to new ideas in the kitchen. Vegan bolognese, roasted tofu marinated in turmeric nestled in onions, or myriad cabbage and farro salad dishes are crowd pleasers. I’m getting a little bored with these too. The need to keep things interesting at the dinner table is always calling me. The best type of cooking or baking is coming up with an experiment on the fly. Take whatever is in the fridge and turn that into a meal. It's not an everyday-thing, but it's a thing. Turn to a recipe that never fails, but add an ingredient to give it a new life. Pancakes always seem to be the best execution of this strategy.
My nose takes me back to simpler times. Rewind to 2012, when the main recipe in my routine was pancake batter. Flapjacks have been my household staple for over a decade. Throughout my son's childhood, these are the sweetest years that I’ve savored. My son has enjoyed them for 13 years, yet I clearly recall even making a concoction of pumpkin pancakes with a little bit of homemade cannabutter when he was in the womb. It may have induced his fertile mind with the endless creativity we’ve come to now know, but that’s just me speculating.
I didn’t grow up having pancakes whenever I wanted them. To be quite honest—God bless my maternal Grandmother’s soul—but they weren’t life-changing. I don’t think I went to sleep thinking about the next time I’d have them. There wasn’t anything to savor from boxed Bisquick pancakes. They were firm and bland. The metallic aftertaste from too much baking soda and the other chemical preservatives lingered on my palate if the pancake wasn’t completely saturated in Aunt Jemima syrup. It’s not my grandma’s fault. My cousins and I probably coerced her to buy the pancake mix that was easily marketed to us during Saturday morning cartoons along with sugary cereals like Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch, or what have you.
My son looks forward to my homemade pancakes. There is so much to enjoy. The spice blend of cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom; the basic leavening of all-purpose flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda yields just the right amount of thickness and crumb; buttermilk, condensed milk, egg, and a dash of whatever over-priced bottle of vanilla creates a breakfast worth looking forward to any day of the week.
“Make any recipe more than three or four times and you’re going to change it, either for reasons of taste or expediency, occasionally both. Make that recipe six or seven times and it’s altered forever. It’s no longer the recipe you originally found. It’s yours.” - Sam Sifton
My pancake recipe has seen its fair set of changes. There was a time when the thickness was like a crepe — not what I was going for. More baking powder made it rise, but then dried it out too much. The addition of buttermilk and the condensed milk balanced everything out. Also, the important lesson to not over mix goes a long way. In 2020, I spent the summer combing through my family’s collection of Cook’s Illustrated. When I found their story “Perfect Pancakes,” everything changed. It was a 3-page experiment that achieved the best flavor and texture with the least amount of leavening. I had a greater appreciation for food science once Cook’s Illustrated entered my life.
Making pancakes taught me how dry ingredients work in baking. I’m still learning as some cakes and quick breads differ depending on what the wet base is, fruit or eggs & milk. If pancakes are the most basic foundational things I cook, then my annual tradition of Christmas cake (black cake) bookends my skill set. Its pages-long list of ingredients and processes are worth their weight in pounds of fruit, and bottles of wine and rum that anchor its flavor. I’ve been energized to bake it as a gift for friends and family, or for potential buyers. The tradition has spanned generations on both sides of my family. Just last winter, my son took the reins on prepping all of the ingredients when I injured my Achilles tendon. We stood side-by-side, wearing matching Christmas pajamas, me propped up on crutches, guiding him through the list of measurements. It was a true passing of the torch. My grandmother, who had back and leg pains as she aged, are things I’ve now inherited. I was by her side then soaking up all of her tendencies, most importantly, her unmatched paring knife skills plus her black cake recipe. Time will tell how my son picks up the rest of what I’ve learned in the kitchen.
