Whole Wheat Pancakes

February. Valentine's Day as a single person. I did not buy flowers or cook a romantic dinner for anyone. I cooked for the kids (they were here). I made heart-shaped pancakes (using a cookie cutter on the griddle) and Aiden said, "These are love pancakes, Daddy," which is the most Valentine thing anyone has ever said to me, and he is five, and the review stands. I have been thinking about the future. Not the divorce future (that is settled). Not the pandemic future (that is uncertain). The cooking future. Jerome keeps saying "restaurant." Miss Doris said "you've arrived." Mama said "the food is the whole book." Five people at the July Fourth event asked if I cater. Three parents from Aiden's school want to hire me. The evidence is accumulating like snow on a windshield — visible, growing, impossible to ignore. The question is not whether the food is good enough. The food is good enough. The question is whether I am brave enough. I am not brave enough. Not yet. I am a factory worker with a mortgage of credit card debt and two children in shared custody and a knee that aches in January and a mother whose food is still better than mine. The restaurant dream is real, but the timing is not. The timing will come when the timing comes. For now, I cook. For my children. For my friends. For myself. And I wait for the moment when the no becomes a yes and the dream becomes a door. Sunday dinner was Mama's pot roast. Comfort food for a cold month. Dad fell asleep after his plate, which is his tradition and his right. Mama covered him with a blanket. I washed the dishes. The kitchen at the duplex smelled like home and the kitchen at my apartment smells like home and I have two homes now — one where I eat and one where I cook — and both of them hold me.

Aiden called them “love pancakes” and I did not correct him, because he was right. I used a heart-shaped cookie cutter right on the griddle — low tech, high impact — and watched his face do that thing where the whole world is a pancake. That morning I stopped worrying about the restaurant dream and the mortgage and the knee and just flipped circles into hearts. The batter I reach for is whole wheat — a little nutty, a little hearty, the kind that holds a shape and holds up to a five-year-old’s appetite — and it’s the recipe I’ll keep making until the timing becomes a door.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 12 pancakes)

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1 3/4 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Butter or neutral oil for the griddle

Instructions

Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the whole wheat flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a spatula until just combined — a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix or your pancakes will be tough. Let the batter rest for 5 minutes.
Heat the griddle. Warm a griddle or large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Lightly grease with butter or a small amount of neutral oil. The griddle is ready when a drop of water skips across the surface.
Cook the pancakes. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter per pancake onto the griddle. If making heart shapes, place a greased heart-shaped cookie cutter on the griddle and pour batter inside. Cook until bubbles form on the surface and the edges look set, about 2 to 3 minutes, then flip and cook 1 to 2 minutes more until golden.
Keep warm and serve. Transfer finished pancakes to a baking sheet in a 200°F oven to keep warm while you finish the batch. Serve with maple syrup, fresh fruit, or powdered sugar.

Nutrition (per serving)

Whole Wheat Pancakes — Love Pancakes, Daddy