Tasty Tales: The Pancake Chronicles

Embark on a pancake odyssey where tradition meets trend, and every bite tells a story.

South Korea: Kimchi-jeon

Pack your taste buds and join me on a culinary escapade to South Korea! Imagine us lounging on the creaky wooden porch of a time-honored hanok (traditional Korean house), the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain serenading our ears. As you reach out, playful raindrops dance on your palm, a crisp breeze playfully tugs at your shirt. Beside you, a Korean companion leans in, their voice a hushed secret in the drizzle: “There’s nothing like savoring kimchi-jeon and sipping on makgeolli in this weather, trust me, it’s the ultimate comfort.”

Embark on a quest for the most venerable jar of kimchi you can find, one steeped in time for over six months, if not more. The fiery tang of aged kimchi is the secret to a transcendent kimchi-jeon. Gather your kimchi, a handful of fresh green onions, a sprinkle of all-purpose flour, and just enough water to bind the magic together. A generous dollop of kimchi juice elevates the flavor, while a whisper of sugar harmonizes the sour notes with the heat. And if gochujang is within reach, seize it! This traditional chili paste, a blend of chili powder, glutinous rice, fermented soybeans and others, is the enchanting touch that transforms the humble pancake into culinary royalty.

Sizzle into the scene with kimchi pancakes, whether they’re crisping up in your home skillet or sputtering on a lively street stall grill. Each bite is a hot, crispy revelation. Yet, there’s a subtle distinction: the homemade kimchi-jeon boasts a flavor so spot-on, it stands alone without any frills. On the flip side, the street-side variety plays it cool, a tad milder, beckoning for the perfect partner—a dipping sauce. It’s a simple concoction, a splash of savory soy sauce kissed with toasted sesame’s nutty embrace. And for those who dare the heat, a dollop of gochujang waits to ignite the palate. 

Prepare for a delightful twist in your kimchi-jeon adventure! It’s not uncommon to find a treasure trove of flavors hidden within, from the briny snap of shrimp to the tender chew of squid, or even the savory richness of minced pork. Onions join the party too, lending their natural sweetness to the mix. Whether fashioned into petite rounds no bigger than a teacup’s mouth or spread out as wide as a dinner plate, each kimchi-jeon is a study in contrasts: crisped to perfection on the outside, tenderly soft within. They are a symphony of tastes—fatty, sour, spicy, and salty—all singing in unison to chase away the chill and dampness of the monsoon season.

Raise your cup of makgeolli, the venerable Korean sticky rice wine that whispers tales from the BC era. Crafted in a manner akin to Vietnamese sticky rice wine, yet distinct with its cereal yeast, makgeolli is “tradition in a sip”. It’s customary to cradle this milky elixir in a gleaming brass tea set, its subtle alcoholic fragrance mingling with sweet and gentle bitter notes. Picture makgeolli as the soothing strum of a warm guitar, providing a mellow backdrop to the vibrant, high-pitched sonnet of kimchi-jeon.

Taiwan: Dan Bing – Egg pancakes

Dawn breaks, and the kitchen orchestra begins: the clang of pots and pans, the sizzle of grease, and the rhythmic snap of pancakes hitting the griddle. A symphony of scents wafts through the air—dough crisping to golden perfection, eggs sputtering in the pan, onions caramelizing to a sweet turn, cheese stretching into gooey threads, minced meat browning with promise, and canned tuna melding its oceanic essence. This culinary concerto rouses the youth of Taiwan from their slumber, luring them from the cocoon of warm blankets and plush mattresses to the kitchen. Since the nostalgic ’50s, dan bing, a savory tapestry of egg and soy milk, has reigned supreme as the most common breakfast in Taiwan.

In the year 1949, as mainland Chinese trailed Chiang Kai-shek’s retreat to Taiwan, they carried more than just their belongings: they brought the savory onion cake (cong you bing), a breakfast staple. It is flat, round discs, slightly thicker than its pancake cousins, exuding the warm aroma of toasted wheat flour and onions. In those days, Taiwan’s fields were rich with rice, not wheat. Resourceful cooks turned to rice flour, tapioca starch, or sweet potato flour, blending it with the traditional wheat flour to create a tender and springy pancake. A splash of hot water to soften the dough, a sizzle in the pan, and a freshly cracked egg for protein. Voilà, dan bing made its grand entrance to the world.

In Taiwan, the pancake tradition stands firm, yet it embraces variation. Today, you’ll find two beloved versions: the baked pancake, a tender roll brimming with egg, and its cousin, the fried pancake, where eggs nestle within. Since 1994, traditional-style pancakes have journeyed from street corners to supermarket freezers, ready-made for a taste of nostalgia. But even in their frozen state, Taiwanese pancakes retain a softness and springiness that sets them apart from the original Chinese scallion pancakes. And let’s not forget the local preferences—Taipei’s denizens crave that crisp exterior, while Tainan’s residents cherish a chewier bite. It’s a pancake dichotomy that deliciously divides and unites in every bite.

Dan bing is a canvas for creativity, not just limited to eggs but an array of fillings that cater to every palate, from the savory richness of ham and pork floss to the sweet crunch of corn. The dipping sauces are a testament to Taiwan’s culinary diversity, ranging from the simplicity of soy sauce to the complexity of hoisin, the zest of tomato sauce, the depth of oyster sauce, and the creamy tang of Japanese mayonnaise. To savor a dan bing in true Taiwanese fashion, roll it up or slice it into bite-sized pieces. Each crispy, chewy, and flavor-packed bite is a tribute to the island’s gastronomic brilliance.

Japan: Okonomiyaki

Dive into the delicious world of okonomiyaki, where the name itself is an invitation to culinary creativity: “grilled as you like”. This delightful dish is a harmonious blend of frying and baking, with a wheat flour base that gives it the soul of a pancake and the heart of a grill.

Tracing its roots back to the 16th century, okonomiyaki’s ancestor, funoyaki, was a simple delight—flat, round wheat flour cakes sweetened with sugar and miso. As time marched on, the 19th century saw funoyaki evolve, swapping miso for mashed bean jam and a generous drizzle of sauce. The transformative moment for this dish came in the 1930s in Osaka, when a visionary restaurant invited diners to personalize their pancakes. Thus, okonomiyaki was born, and its savory blend of eggs, onions, and Worcestershire sauce quickly became a crowd-pleaser.

In the wake of World War II, as Japan faced the challenge of food scarcity, the resilient spirit of its people shone through in their cuisine. Vegetables became a precious addition to okonomiyaki, transforming it into a substantial meal that could satisfy and nourish. From this period of adversity, two distinct styles emerged, each a reflection of its city of origin: Osaka and Hiroshima.

Step into the bustling kitchen of Osaka, where the humble taro, white cabbage, and green onions take center stage in the creation of the iconic okonomiyaki. The taro, with its natural stickiness, is the secret to a cohesive batter, while the cabbage adds a sweet crunch, ensuring the pancake’s size is as generous as its flavor. Green onions are the aromatic maestros, infusing the air with their enticing scent.

As the ingredients meld into a fragrant dough, it’s time for the pan or teppan to work its magic, transforming the mixture into golden-brown discs of delight. But the journey doesn’t end there, now comes the parade of fillings: delicate slices of bacon, rich cheese, tender squid, succulent shrimp, and a perfectly cooked egg, each adding their unique texture and taste. For those who crave a zing, pickled gingers await to tantalize the taste buds.

And for the grand finale, a drizzle of glossy brown okonomiyaki sauce cascades over the pancake, followed by golden Japanese mayonnaise. A sprinkle of bright green seaweed powder and the delicate flutter of paper-thin dried tuna complete the masterpiece, each element coming together to create a dish that’s as visually stunning as it is delicious – a true invention of Osaka.

Hiroshima’s rendition of okonomiyaki eschews taro for something even more satisfying: golden buckwheat noodles. It’s a kind of thousand-layer pancake. At the foundation lies a crispy flour base, then crunchy cabbage and bean sprouts, succulent pork belly, fried noodles nestling atop, interwoven with apricot-hued eggs, creating a vibrant mosaic of flavors and textures. Seafood like shrimp, squid, scallops, and oysters may be tucked within the noodle layer or elegantly perched atop, bathed in the rich okonomiyaki sauce and egg sauce. A final sprinkle of green shallot leaves adds a fresh, sharp counterpoint to the dish’s deep umami.

Indeed, the culinary landscape of Japan offers a delightful paradox. Far from the stereotype of petite, intricate servings, dishes like okonomiyaki stand tall: bold and bountiful. Strolling down a vibrant Japanese food street as dusk falls, you will see the young and the young-at-heart converge in cozy okonomiyaki eateries. The air is alive with the sizzle of batter transforming into something divine, the aroma of spices and baked delights weaving through the chatter of patrons. Here, amidst the boisterous greetings and heartfelt thanks, okonomiyaki finds its true essence, reminiscent of Vietnam’s beloved grilled rice papers, a shared celebration of street food culture.

Ah, the allure of okonomiyaki lies in its trio of culinary secrets, each weaving a thread of Japan’s rich gastronomic tapestry. The first secret is the pancake batter itself – a blend of flour with the quintessentially Japanese dashi, a broth of fish and kelp, infusing the crust with a flavor that’s unmistakably from the Land of the Rising Sun.

The second and third secrets are the sauces that grace the okonomiyaki, elevating it from mere pancake to a dish with soul. The okonomiyaki sauce is a complex melody of flavors, combining the tang of English Worcestershire sauce, the sweetness of American tomato sauce, and the umami depth of Chinese oyster sauce, along with a medley of spices that remain a closely guarded Japanese secret. Then there’s the Japanese mayonnaise – thicker, richer, and sweeter than its American counterpart. These sauces are not just condiments; they are the essence of okonomiyaki, imbuing it with a character that’s both international and inherently Japanese.

As we nibble on the final morsels of our pancake saga, a revelation unfolds: kimchi-jeon, dan bing, and okonomiyaki aren’t just culinary delights—they’re kindred spirits in the kitchen. These gastronomic greenhorns, mere fledglings in the grand banquet of history, have nonetheless woven themselves into the fabric of our lives. They stand as a testament to the timeless days of yesteryear, evoking the sweet simplicity of childhood for the young at heart and the young in years alike.

These pancakes do more than just please the palate without pinching the purse—they’re a culinary crossover hit, marrying the rustic charm of yore with the flair of the new age. They don’t just feed the hungry—they feed the soul, proving that sometimes, the simplest ingredients mixed with a dash of innovation are all it takes to create a recipe for enduring success.

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