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Pancake Recipe — The Breakfast After the One Good Hour

Christmas week. The apartment smells like cedar from the tree and soy sauce from the kuromame and the particular scent of a household trying very hard to be festive. I wrapped presents while Miya slept and Brian was out — somewhere, always somewhere — and the wrapping was meditative in the way all repetitive tasks are: fold, tape, fold, tape, the paper becoming the container, the container becoming the gift. I am good at wrapping presents. I am good at all the container tasks — the cooking, the cleaning, the arranging, the holding. I am good at making things look held together. The things inside the container are another matter.

Christmas morning. Miya opened presents with the systematic joy of a three-year-old: paper off, inspect, set aside, next. She got books (from me), a play kitchen set (from Brian), and a package from Barbara containing a handmade sweater and a card that said "To my favorite granddaughter" — Miya is Barbara's only granddaughter, so the superlative is technically correct and emotionally generous. Brian and I exchanged presents with the careful courtesy of diplomatic representatives: a book for him, a scarf for me. The presents were fine. The fineness was its own commentary.

I made Christmas breakfast: tamagoyaki and rice and miso soup, because my Christmas morning is Japanese even when my Christmas afternoon is American, because the duality is who I am, because Fumiko would have insisted on rice and I insist on behalf of Fumiko now, maintaining the standards of a dead woman in a living kitchen. The tamagoyaki was good — rolled thin, layered, slightly sweet, the way Fumiko's card specifies: "not too sweet. This is not a dessert. This is an egg."

For one hour on Christmas morning — Miya in her pajamas, wrapping paper everywhere, Brian on the floor helping her assemble the play kitchen — we were a family in the way that families are supposed to be. Warm. Present. Unified around a child and a tree and the tissue paper on the floor. One hour. I held the hour like a stone in my palm — smooth, warm, something to carry into the hours that follow. One good hour is evidence. One good hour means the goodness exists, even if it is surrounded by hours that are not good. The goodness exists. It is not enough. But it exists.

Fumiko’s card said the tamagoyaki carried the morning — and it did — but what I reach for when I want to extend that hour, to give it somewhere soft to land, is a stack of plain, warm pancakes alongside it. There’s something about the batter — simple, forgiving, the same every time — that steadies me in the way the wrapping and the folding steadied me the night before. Miya ate hers with too much syrup, which felt exactly right. If you find yourself in a kitchen trying to hold a morning together, this is the recipe I’d hand you.

Pancake Recipe

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 8 pancakes)

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 1/4 cups buttermilk (or 1 1/4 cups milk with 1 tablespoon white vinegar, left to sit 5 minutes)
  • 1 large egg
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Butter or neutral oil, for the pan

Instructions

  1. Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined.
  2. Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, egg, melted butter, and vanilla extract.
  3. Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a spatula until just combined — a few lumps are fine and expected. Do not overmix or the pancakes will be tough. Let the batter rest for 3–5 minutes while the pan heats.
  4. Heat the pan. Warm a non-stick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Add a small pat of butter or a thin film of oil and let it melt evenly across the surface.
  5. Cook the pancakes. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter per pancake onto the skillet. Cook until bubbles form on the surface and the edges look set, about 2–3 minutes. Flip and cook another 1–2 minutes until the underside is golden. Repeat with remaining batter, wiping out the pan between batches if needed.
  6. Serve warm. Stack and serve immediately with butter and maple syrup, or keep warm in a 200°F oven on a sheet pan while finishing the rest.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg

Jen Nakamura
About the cook who shared this
Jen Nakamura
Week 192 of Jen’s 30-year story · Portland, Oregon
Jen is a forty-year-old yoga instructor and divorced mom in Portland who traded panic attacks for plants and never looked back. She's Japanese-American on her father's side — third-generation, with a family history that includes wartime internment and generational silence — and white on her mother's. Her cooking is plant-forward, intuitive, and deeply influenced by both her Japanese grandmother's techniques and the Pacific Northwest farmers market she visits every Saturday rain or shine. Which in Portland means mostly rain.

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