New Year's Eve. The space between Christmas and January is strange — you're full of food and feelings and the year is dying and a new one is coming and everything feels both finished and unfinished at the same time.
I spent New Year's Eve at the brewery. Not working — Lakefront does a New Year's taproom event, and Marcus invited the whole staff. Open bar (employee privilege), a DJ who played too much EDM for my taste, and a crowd of Milwaukee's craft beer enthusiasts counting down to midnight. I drank Helen's Wheat and Babcia's Kitchen and made small talk with people who wanted to know about the beers — where the names came from, what inspired the recipes.
I told the story of Babcia about a dozen times. It never gets old. People's faces when I explain that the honey wheat ale is named after my dead grandmother who taught me to make pierogi — they soften. They lean in. They drink the beer differently, like they can taste the story. Maybe they can. Maybe that's the whole point.
At midnight, I stepped outside. The lakefront was cold — single digits, wind off the lake like a blade — and I could hear fireworks from somewhere downtown. I thought about the year. 2018. The year Babcia died. The year I learned to make pierogi. The year I brewed Helen's Wheat and Forest Floor and became assistant brewer. The year I cooked Wigilia for my family and made Dad cry with mushroom soup.
I thought about what's ahead. 2019. I don't know what it holds. I don't have a plan, exactly — I have a job and a kitchen and a stack of recipe cards and a vague, terrifying, exciting feeling that all of this is leading somewhere. Mrs. Wojcik keeps telling me to "do something with the pierogi." Mrs. Grabowski said I have "the hands." Marcus says my instincts are good. Something is forming. I don't know its shape yet.
I went home and made scrambled eggs at 1 AM because midnight scrambled eggs have become my tradition for moments of transition — quiet food for big feelings. Eggs, butter, salt, pepper. Nothing else. The simplest meal, for the last night of the hardest and best year of my life.
2018, you broke me and remade me. 2019, I'm ready.
The scrambled eggs I made that night at 1 AM were barely a recipe — just eggs cracked into a buttered pan, stirred slowly until they were soft and done. But standing at that stove in the silence after the countdown, after the fireworks, after a year that had taken so much and given so much back, I understood why I keep coming back to eggs in these moments. They’re honest food. No pretense, no technique to hide behind — just you and the heat and whatever you’re carrying. These thin egg pancakes are that same spirit stretched a little further: still simple, still quiet, but with enough substance to feel like you made something real in the dark.
Thin Egg Pancakes
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 large eggs
- 1/2 cup whole milk
- 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, divided
- Fresh chives or parsley, chopped, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Make the batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, flour, salt, and pepper until completely smooth with no lumps. Let the batter rest for 2 minutes.
- Heat the pan. Place a 9- or 10-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add about 1/4 teaspoon of the butter and swirl to coat the bottom evenly.
- Cook the first pancake. Pour roughly 1/4 of the batter (about 1/4 cup) into the pan and immediately tilt and swirl so it spreads into a thin, even round. Cook undisturbed for 1 to 2 minutes, until the edges look set and the surface is no longer wet.
- Flip and finish. Slide a thin spatula under the pancake and flip gently. Cook for another 30 to 45 seconds until just set but still tender. Transfer to a plate.
- Repeat. Add a small pat of butter before each pancake and repeat with the remaining batter, stacking finished pancakes as you go.
- Serve. Fold or roll the pancakes and serve warm, topped with chopped chives or parsley if desired. A little extra butter on top never hurts.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 130 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 210mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 145 of Jake’s 30-year story
· Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.