Pancakes Without Eggs

New Year's Day, 2018. The second year of the ozoni tradition. I woke at five and stood in the dark kitchen and made the soup — ozoni, the New Year's miso soup with grilled mochi, the same soup Fumiko is making right now in Sacramento, the same soup her mother made before the war, the same soup that has traveled through decades and across oceans and through internment camps and into a kitchen in Portland where a mixed-race woman stands in the dark and stirs and remembers.

I called Fumiko at seven, Sacramento time. She was eating her ozoni. I was eating mine. Two women, two kitchens, seven hundred miles apart, eating the same soup. She asked about my mochi. I said I grilled it. She said, "Good." She asked about the dashi. I said I used her kombu. She said, "The overnight soak?" I said yes. She said nothing, which means satisfaction. The conversation lasted four minutes. It contained everything.

Brian ate the ozoni and this year he did not reach for pizza. He ate it with chopsticks — somewhat clumsily, but with effort, and the effort was the thing. He ate the mochi and said, "I get it now. The chewy thing in the soup." He does not get it. He cannot get it — the mochi carries the weight of a hundred New Year's mornings he was not part of. But he tried, and trying is a form of crossing the bridge from his side to mine, and I respect the crossing even when the understanding does not complete.

Miya ate mochi for the second time and was delighted by the chewiness, stretching it between her fingers, laughing, the mochi stringing out like taffy. She does not know that the mochi is symbolic — that its stretchiness represents longevity, that its whiteness represents purity, that eating it on New Year's is a wish for a long, clean life. She just knows it is stretchy and fun and makes mama smile. That is enough symbolism for a twenty-month-old.

2018 begins. A new year in the kitchen, at the table, at the blog. I do not make resolutions because resolutions imply that I am currently insufficient, and I have spent thirty-two years feeling insufficient and I am done contributing to the feeling. Instead, I make intentions: I intend to write more. I intend to cook Fumiko's recipes with greater precision. I intend to visit Sacramento every two months. I intend to be honest with myself about the marriage, even when the honesty is a door I do not want to open. The intentions are not goals. They are directions. I point myself toward them and walk.

The ozoni was mine to carry—the five a.m. kitchen, the dashi, the phone call with Fumiko, all of it weighted with decades I am still learning to hold. But after the soup bowls were cleared and Miya had stretched her mochi into strings and Brian had tried his best with the chopsticks, the morning still needed feeding—something lighter, something that belonged to all three of us equally, without the history attached. These egg-free pancakes have become exactly that: the second act of our New Year’s breakfast, simple and golden and requiring nothing of anyone except a little butter and a warm griddle.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 8 pancakes)

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups milk (dairy or unsweetened non-dairy)
3 tablespoons neutral vegetable oil, plus more for the pan
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Make the buttermilk substitute. Stir together the milk and apple cider vinegar in a small bowl or measuring cup. Let sit for 3–5 minutes until slightly curdled and thickened. This replaces both the egg and the tang that lifts the batter.
Whisk dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined.
Combine wet and dry. Add the milk mixture, vegetable oil, and vanilla extract to the dry ingredients. Stir gently with a fork or spatula until just combined—a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix, or the pancakes will be tough.
Rest the batter. Let the batter sit undisturbed for 3 minutes while you heat the pan. This allows the baking powder to activate and produces a fluffier result.
Heat the pan. Warm a nonstick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Lightly brush with oil or coat with a small amount of butter. The pan is ready when a drop of water skitters across the surface.
Cook the pancakes. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter per pancake onto the pan. Cook until bubbles form across the surface and the edges look set, about 2–3 minutes. Flip and cook another 1–2 minutes until golden on the second side. Adjust heat as needed between batches.
Serve warm. Serve immediately with maple syrup, fresh fruit, or a light dusting of powdered sugar. These are best eaten fresh off the griddle.

Nutrition (per serving, 2 pancakes)

Pancakes Without Eggs — The Other New Year’s Morning, Made for Everyone at the Table