NEVER Make Flat Pancakes Again — Try This Old Japanese Café Trick Instead

You pour the batter into the pan, and before you have even lifted the ladle away, it has run out to the edges. It cooks thin and limp, more like [music] a crepe than a pancake, and a stack of

four barely reaches the top of your fork. But none of it is on you. A pancake only rises as tall as the air inside it. So, when everything is beaten together in one bowl, the air goes, and the batter lies down like a crepe. That

is how most of us were shown. Eggs [music] and milk and flour, all in at once, then straight onto medium heat. But up in Niigata's snow country, my mother had an old way with eggs that made anything she

baked stand tall, and it needed nothing but her own arm and a little patience.

So, her celebration sponge cakes rose so high that the neighbors' children would crouch by the table to see them from the side. And before we are done today, your pancakes will stand like that, too. If you put a flat stack next to a tall,

trembling one on any breakfast table, every hand goes to the tall one before anybody has tasted it. And the ones you see in Tokyo cafes stand up for the very same reason. And you can make them at home from two eggs. So, I will show you

the moment to stop before the batter turns on you. And one step of hers is so plain that I nearly left it out. Yet, it is the one people copy first. No, it is not about the oil. I'm Hana Yoshida. So,

bring two eggs to the counter, and we will begin the way she did. Crack your eggs while they are still cold from the fridge. A cold yolk is firmer, so it holds together while you tip it from one

half of the shell to the [music] other. Then the white slides off into the bowl underneath. Make that a glass or steel bowl, clean and completely dry, because a smear of grease or a streak of yolk can keep the whites from ever whipping

up thick. And if a thread of yellow does slip in, lift it out with the edge of a broken shell. The shell cuts through the white where a spoon or a fingertip only chases it around the bowl. Two eggs are

all this needs for three tall pancakes. The [music] yolks go into a smaller bowl and the whites can wait in the fridge while you make the base. The first time my mother let me do this, I was so

careful that I broke the yolk anyway and a long yellow ribbon ran into her whites. She did not say a word. Instead, she scooped it out with half a shell in one stroke, then handed the shell back to me and cracked another egg. I can

still hear the little click of that shell on the rim of her bowl. And once the yolks are on their own, they need something to hold on to. Into the yolks go four teaspoons of milk and half a

teaspoon of vanilla and you whisk them until they are smooth. Then the flour, three tablespoons of plain all-purpose flour, the ordinary kind in your cupboard, through a small sieve. [music] That way no lumps can hide in it, so you

will not find one later in the folded batter where every extra stir costs you air. Now whisk again and this time you can be firm about it because this is the one bowl in the whole recipe with no air

to lose. It turns into a thick [music] glossy paste, far thicker than any pancake batter you have made and that is exactly right. A runny base would only thin the whites when they meet [music] and thin batter spreads and you will

notice there is no baking powder at all. That is because the whites are going to do every bit of the lifting. [music] My mother never shook a sieve. She tapped it against the heel of her other hand, so the flour fell in a soft little drift

instead of a cloud. I used to wait for her to turn her back and then I wrote my name in whatever had landed on the table. Set that paste aside now because it is the whites' turn and I promised to

tell you when to stop. Set your nonstick pan with its lid on the lowest flame now so it warms slowly while you work. Then take the whites out of the fridge and start your hand mixer on low.

[music] In a minute they go cloudy and foamy, full of big loose bubbles, and that is when the sugar begins. Use two level tablespoons in all, a third at a time, with a little beating between each. If you tip it in at once, it sinks into the

whites and weighs them down before they have caught any air. Then, [music] turn the speed up and keep going. Recipes tend to say only "Beat until stiff," but stiff is a word, not a picture. So, watch the bowl rather than the clock

because every mixer and every batch of eggs is a little different. They will go white, then thick, then glossy. Lift the beaters out and look at the peak hanging from the end. When it stands up and holds its shape with only the very tip

bending over, that is the moment I promised you, so stop right there. Keep going past it and the whites turn dull and grainy, then start to break into lumps, and lumps like that never fold in smoothly. So, stop while they still

shine. If [music] you whip by hand as she did, use a balloon whisk and your widest bowl, and expect your arm to ache before the end. My mother's whisk had one bent wire she refused to straighten, and when one arm grew tired, she simply

changed hands without slowing down. Then, she tipped the bowl towards the window because the light off the snow showed the shine better than any lamp.

[music] She never wrote that stopping point down as a time. On her sponge card, there is only a little drawing of the whisk [music] with a peak curling off its end. That card and every other one from her box is in my book, Cook

Better, Waste Less, at hanayoshida.com. Now, [music] those whites will not wait for us. Before any folding, take one big spoonful of the whites and drop it into the yolk paste. Any spoon will do as long as it is a generous one. [music]

Then, whisk it in hard until the paste goes pale and soft. Yes, you are knocking the air out of that one spoonful, and that is the point. The paste is so stiff that if you folded the whites straight into it, you would have

to push and stir to get it smooth, and that pushing would cost you far more air than one spoon. Now, the base is loose enough to slide into the rest of the whites without a fight, and that one

spoon is a quiet reason these pancakes stand up so well. I told her once that she was wasting good whites. She only laughed through her nose, the way she did when an argument was over, and said that spoon cleared the road for all the

others. And now, the whisk can go in the sink. Pour the loosened paste over the whites and pick up a flexible spatula. A wide bowl helps here because it gives the spatula room to sweep. A whisk is a

bundle of wires, and every wire cuts through bubbles as it goes round. A spatula is one wide flat blade, so it lifts the batter in soft sheets and leaves most of the bubbles alone. It will feel too gentle at first, and that

is how you know you are doing it right. So, slice down through the center to the bottom of the bowl, sweep under, and lift it up and over. Then, turn the bowl a little with your other hand. Keep your

movements slow, as if the batter were asleep and you did not want to wake it.

My mother called that kiruyoni, which means like cutting. And if you spot a pocket of yellow paste hiding at the bottom, scoop it up from underneath rather than stirring after it. Keep going only until the last white streak

disappears, which will take fewer turns than you expect [music] and not one more. Go round and round with a whisk instead, and you are back to the crepe we started with. Run out to the edges of the pan. So, as soon as the streaks are

gone, spoon it straight into a piping bag or a strong food bag standing open in a tall glass. Batter that sits in the bowl slowly loses its air. Her wooden paddle was worn flat on one side from years of it. She counted her turns under

her breath, very quietly, [music] and if the last streak vanished, she stopped right in the middle of a number.

I count mine the same way, and I still lose [music] track. While the batter is fresh, the pan is waiting. Check the pan that has been warming on the lowest flame since you started whipping.

If you own a surface thermometer, you are aiming for about 150° C, 300° F. And on some stoves, the lowest setting runs cool. So, if nothing has browned by the time we turn them, nudge it up just one

step. That is far gentler than the medium heat we were taught, and these pancakes need it because they are tall and take a long time to cook through.

Then add a few drops of oil and rub them over with a folded paper towel until the pan only gleams.

Wipe from the middle outwards, right up to the edges. A thin film is all these need, so every mound stays exactly where you put it.

My mother kept a wad of oiled paper in a little dish beside the stove, [music] and one sweep of it greased her pan.

One wad lasted her for weeks, so a bottle tipped straight into a pan would have looked like pure waste to her.

But before a spoonful of batter goes near that pan, there is one more thing to do, and it is the step I have been holding back.

Take a clean kitchen cloth, wet it under the tap, and wring it out hard.

Fold it flat on a wooden board beside the stove, [music] well away from the flame.

Then lift the warm pan off the flame and set it down on that wet cloth. It hisses and a little steam rises.

Count to about five until the hiss dies away. Then put the pan straight back on the lowest flame.

A pan on a flame always runs hotter in some spots. The cloth [music] takes the top off that heat, so the underside browns slowly, one soft color all the way across.

[music] That is the step so plain that I nearly left it out, and the one people copy the moment they see it.

My mother called it her nure fukin, her [music] wet cloth, and it went under the pan before every batch of hotcakes she made.

I carried her habit over to these tall pancakes myself. They needed even more than her hotcakes ever did, because they sit on that pan for 10 minutes or more.

Do it with a warm pan, never a smoking one, [music] and keep your face back from the steam.

Wring the cloth well, so no water drips into the pan. And if your pan is very thin, leave this step out, because a sudden cool can warp thin [music] metal.

On Sunday mornings, that hiss was how I knew. I could be in the next room with my socks half on, and the moment I heard it, I ran, because it meant the first hotcake was only minutes away.

She made them from a box, but she never once skipped the cloth. Now, the pan is ready, and the batter has to go in tall.

Snip a corner off the bag about the width of your finger, or take up a large spoon if you have no bag.

Pipe three mounds, building each one up in a tight spiral until it stands about three fingers high.

The height has to go in at the start, [music] because these pancakes will never climb up out of a flat puddle.

Then drip a tablespoon of water into the empty spaces in the pan, never onto the pancakes, and put the lid straight on.

Leave them on the lowest flame for 6 to 7 minutes. [music] The water turns to steam, and the steam cooks the tops and the middles, while the bottoms brown slowly underneath.

So, try not to peek, because every peek lets the steam out. [music] My mother's kitchen clock had a crack right across its face, and she trusted it more than any timer.

When she steamed buns for an afternoon snack, the lid fogged up until I could not see a thing, and still, she made me wait for the long hand.

When the clock says so, the turn comes, and it is the moment that tells you whether all of this worked. Lift the lid. The top should look dry, not wet and shiny, and a thin spatula should slide under each pancake without

sticking. [music] If one resists, give it another 30 seconds to a minute rather than forcing it.

[music] Then roll it over in one steady movement with a second spatula to guide it down.

Add another tablespoon of water to the gaps, put the lid back on, and give them four or five minutes more. To check, press the side of one gently with a fingertip. When it springs [music] back instead of denting, push a thin skewer

in from the side to the very middle. [music] It should come out clean with no wet batter on it. If you are making these for small children, older people, or anyone pregnant, never serve one with a soft middle,

[music] and give it another minute under the lid instead. If you have a thermometer, the middle should read at least 71° C [music] 160° F. Serve them at once. They will settle a little as they cool, which is

normal, but a pancake that is cooked right through keeps its height instead of sinking into a damp disc.

My mother tested her hotcakes the same way. One fingertip on the side, and the first one always went to me.

I ate it standing at the counter with my fingers while she made [music] the rest.

I still eat my first one standing up. Now, think what those three would cost in a cafe. A plate of souffle pancakes in the American cafes that serve them is about $16. [music] At home, two eggs cost under 40 cents,

and with the flour, milk, sugar, and vanilla, the whole bowl comes to about a dollar. So, make it a Sunday habit.

Double everything and use two pans, and two of you each get a cafe plate of three.

Then lay a clean, dry cloth by the stove on Saturday night, so it is waiting for you in the morning.

If you only do one thing, split your eggs and whip the whites on their own.

[music] And this week, make two changes. Fold with a spatula instead of stirring with a whisk, and keep the flame at its lowest with the wet cloth under the pan before the batter goes in.

Then on Sunday, you will lift the lid on three pancakes standing tall in the pan, and they will still be standing when they reach the table.

Be honest with me. When a pancake came out flat in your house, who got the blame? And was it you?

Let me know, and tell me what people call pancakes in your country. Waste nothing. [music] Cook with care. I will see you in the kitchen.