Japanese Pancakes -- The Curry Was for Miya, But These Were for Me

Week two of lockdown. The apartment has become the entire world and the entire world is too small. Brian and I orbit each other like planets that have been pushed too close — the gravitational force is there, but the proximity is causing chaos, not harmony. He works from the bedroom — "works" in quotation marks, because he is furloughed and what he does in the bedroom is apply for jobs and watch his phone and drink beer, which he has started doing at three PM, which used to be his after-work time and is now his after-nothing time. The nothing is filling with alcohol. I watch this happen with the detached horror of a woman who knows exactly where this road leads and cannot steer the car from the passenger seat.

I made Japanese curry — the mild, sweet, apple-and-honey inflected curry that is comfort food for Japanese children and, apparently, for American adults in quarantine. Miya loves it. She eats the rice and the potatoes and pushes the carrots to the side and says, "More curry, mama," and I give her more curry because I cannot give her a functional family or a safe world or a virus-free future, but I can give her more curry, and the curry is thick and warm and within the boundaries of the pot, everything is under control.

I started teaching yoga online — free classes on Instagram Live, because the studio is closed and my students need the practice and I need the purpose. The phone propped on a stack of books, the apartment behind me cropped out, the forty-five minutes of guided breathing and gentle movement that is my gift to the terrified world. Thirty people watch the first class. Fifty watch the second. The numbers don't matter. What matters is the breath. What matters is that somewhere, in apartments all over Portland, people are breathing together even though they are apart, and the togetherness-in-apartness is the closest thing to hope I have found in two weeks.

Brian and I are not fighting. Fighting requires engagement, and engagement requires energy, and neither of us has energy. We are coexisting. We are roommates with a child. The marriage has been downgraded from a relationship to an arrangement, and the arrangement is efficient and hollow and the hollowness echoes in the kitchen when we stand at the counter together, preparing separate meals, moving around each other with the choreography of strangers in a shared workspace.

The curry was for Miya — and for the part of me that needed to believe something could be contained and warm and finished. But mornings were mine, the only hour before Brian’s phone started buzzing and Miya woke up calling for me, and I started making Japanese pancakes in that silence the way some people pray. They’re patient food: you have to fold the egg whites carefully, you have to wait for the slow rise, you can’t rush them or they collapse — and there was something true in that, something I needed to practice. These are the pancakes I made in week two, in the window between yoga class and the rest of the day arriving.

Japanese Pancakes

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4 (2 pancakes each)

Ingredients

• 2 large eggs, separated
• 3 tablespoons whole milk
• 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 tablespoons sugar, divided
• 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or canola), for the pan
• 2 tablespoons water, for steaming
• Powdered sugar, fresh fruit, or maple syrup, to serve

Instructions

1. Mix the yolk batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, milk, and vanilla extract until smooth. Sift in the flour and baking powder, then add 1 tablespoon of the sugar. Stir gently until just combined — do not overmix.
2. Whip the egg whites. In a clean, dry bowl, beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar using a hand mixer on medium speed until foamy. Gradually add the remaining 1 tablespoon of sugar and continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form. This is the step that gives the pancakes their height — don’t rush it.
3. Fold together. Add one-third of the whipped whites to the yolk batter and stir to lighten it. Then gently fold in the remaining whites in two additions, using a rubber spatula and a light hand. Stop when just combined; a few white streaks are fine.
4. Cook low and slow. Heat a nonstick skillet or griddle over the lowest possible heat and brush lightly with oil. Using a large spoon or ice cream scoop, mound the batter into tall rounds about 3 inches wide, building height by stacking the batter rather than spreading it. Add 1 tablespoon of water to the edge of the pan (not on the pancakes) and immediately cover with a lid. Cook for 4—5 minutes.
5. Flip carefully. Remove the lid, add another tablespoon of water to the pan, and very gently flip each pancake using a wide spatula. Cover again and cook another 4—5 minutes, until the pancakes are cooked through and lightly golden on both sides. They should feel set but still springy when pressed.
6. Serve immediately. Transfer to plates and dust with powdered sugar. Serve with fresh berries, a drizzle of maple syrup, or a spoonful of sweet red bean paste. These do not keep — eat them while they still hold their height.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 95mg