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Gluten-Free Pancakes — Amma’s Sweet Appam for the News You’ve Been Holding

Halloween again. Year two of married-in-America cultural negotiations. This year I bought candy AND carved a pumpkin AND made caramel apples, the latter being a Pinterest project that sounded simple and was actually a nightmare involving molten sugar, burnt fingers, and apples that refused to stay on their sticks. Raj came home to find me in the kitchen covered in caramel and cursing in Tamil, which is a linguistic choice I make when English profanity doesn't capture the depth of my frustration. "What happened?" he asked, surveying the carnage. "Caramel apples." "They look... challenging." "They look like a crime scene." "Can I eat one?" He ate one. He said it was good. He was lying but I love him for it. Amma called. "What are you doing?" "Making caramel apples." "Why?" "Because it's Halloween." "We don't—" "Yes we do, Amma. We've been doing Halloween since 1993." "Your father let you. I was—" "Against it. Yes. You were against it while sewing my princess costume." Silence. Then: "That was a good costume." Amma and I are trapped in a feedback loop about Halloween that will presumably continue for the rest of our lives. It's one of those family arguments that nobody wins and nobody wants to win because the arguing is the point. The arguing is connection. I'm twelve weeks tomorrow. Tomorrow we tell the families. Tomorrow the kumquat becomes public. Tomorrow I stop holding this secret and let other people hold it with me. I'm scared. Not of telling — of what telling means. It means hope is no longer private. It means if something goes wrong, everyone knows. It means Amma will start cooking fertility foods and Pushpa will start buying baby clothes and the weight of expectation will land on this tiny, lime-sized life that hasn't asked for any of it. But tomorrow. Tomorrow we tell them. Tonight I made Amma's appam — the sweet version, with jaggery folded into the batter. It's the dessert she makes for celebrations, for good news, for the days when the world gives you something you've been waiting for. I'm ready. I think. I'm ready.

The caramel apples were a disaster and that’s fine — they were never really the point. The point was this: Amma’s sweet appam, the version she makes when there’s something worth celebrating, jaggery dissolved into the batter like a secret about to be told. I’ve adapted her recipe slightly over the years, swapping in coconut milk for richness and using a fine rice flour that gives the edges that lacy, crisped curl she always gets without me ever being able to explain how. Make these the night before something changes. Make them when you’re ready — or almost ready — or just trying to convince yourself you are.

Sweet Appam with Jaggery and Coconut Milk

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 12 appam

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups fine rice flour (idiyappam flour or store-bought fine-ground)
  • 1/4 cup all-purpose gluten-free flour blend
  • 3/4 cup grated or packed dark jaggery (or substitute light brown sugar)
  • 1 cup full-fat coconut milk, well shaken
  • 1/2 cup warm water, plus more as needed
  • 2 large eggs, room temperature
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • 1 tablespoon coconut oil or neutral oil, for the pan
  • Optional: 2 tablespoons shredded unsweetened coconut, toasted, for serving

Instructions

  1. Dissolve the jaggery. In a small saucepan over low heat, combine the grated jaggery and 1/2 cup warm water. Stir gently until fully dissolved, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature. Do not boil.
  2. Mix the batter. In a large bowl, whisk together the rice flour, gluten-free flour blend, baking soda, salt, and cardamom. Make a well in the center. Add the eggs, coconut milk, and cooled jaggery syrup. Whisk from the center outward until a smooth, pourable batter forms. It should be slightly thinner than American pancake batter — add water a tablespoon at a time if it feels stiff.
  3. Rest the batter. Let the batter rest for 10 minutes at room temperature. This allows the rice flour to fully hydrate and gives the edges of the appam their characteristic lacy texture.
  4. Heat the pan. Heat a non-stick skillet or seasoned cast iron pan over medium heat. Add a very small amount of coconut oil and use a paper towel to wipe it into a thin, even coat — too much oil and the appam will fry rather than steam-set. The pan is ready when a drop of batter sizzles gently on contact.
  5. Cook the appam. Pour 3 tablespoons of batter per appam into the pan. Work in batches of 2–3. Do not spread — let the batter settle naturally into a round. Cook until the surface looks dry and the edges are just pulling away from the pan, about 2 minutes. Flip gently and cook 1 minute more. The finished appam should be golden-brown with slightly darker edges.
  6. Serve warm. Transfer to a plate and cover loosely with a clean towel to keep soft while you finish the batch. Serve warm, with toasted coconut scattered on top if using. These are best eaten the day they are made.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 148 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 95mg

Priya Krishnamurthy
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 83 of Priya’s 30-year story · Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.

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