Name: Banana Walnut Pancakes
Ingredients: 1 1/2 cup (188 g) all-purpose flour (or 1-to-1 for my gluten-free homies); 1 tablespoon (15 g) sugar; 1 tablespoon (12 g) brown sugar; 1 tablespoon (6 g) powdered peanut butter; 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon; 2 teaspoon (9 g) baking powder; 1/2 teaspoon baking soda; 1/2 teaspoon salt; 1 1/4 cup (300 ml) buttermilk; 2 large eggs; 1 teaspoon vanilla extract; 2 tablespoon (30 ml) vegetable oil; 2 bananas (one quartered and chopped, the other sliced in rounds); 1/2 cup (59 g) chopped walnuts, divided; Maple syrup, for serving

Banana Walnut Pancakes

By: Emma Myles, excerpted from Trigger Kitchen

Banana Walnut Pancakes

By: Emma Myles, excerpted from Trigger Kitchen

I noticed that my dad’s hands were shaking a little bit and I wondered when that had started. As we sat at this retro diner, he could barely keep his coffee from spilling. He grounded it on the table with two hands, attempting to keep it steady, to keep me from asking. He looked up with pleading eyes. “Hot,” he said. “Yeah,” I agreed, even though I had just taken a sip of mine and it was fine. I didn’t ask if he was okay because I knew he wasn’t. I knew that he was settling into withdrawal symptoms because he hadn’t had a drink in days.

“What’s it gonna be?” the waitress asked. We both looked at our menus like they were a test. It was clear that he had no appetite. And it was clear that I was a 16-year-old girl with a massive eating disorder and that this was the kind of question that was going to put me on the spot. I picked the first thing I saw. “I’ll have the banana walnut pancakes, please.” “And for you, sir?” “Just coffee for me, thanks.” It must’ve been quite a scene. The two of us, wasting away because of our poor life choices. Choices that turned into addictions and then became diseases. So enduring, our choices weren’t choices anymore. I wondered how much he knew about my situation. I didn’t see him very frequently after the divorce, but he looked at me with the same kind of empathy I reserved for him, so he had to know something.

The waitress came back with my order, and my anxiety started flaring up. I scanned the restaurant for the bathroom, clocked it and started to eat. “That looks good,” Dad said. “Do you mind if I have some?” “Um, sure, go ahead,” I said suspiciously, knowing he was definitely not hungry. We ranked Beach Boys songs and ate our first meal together in probably four years. When we got to the number one slot, we both said “God Only Knows” in unison and laughed. Obviously. I looked down to see that he had eaten half of the food on my plate. “Must’ve been hungry,” he said.

But that’s not why. I knew why. He was doing me a favor. He was trying to help me stop before I went too far. He was trying to save me from myself without making me feel pathetic. It was a kindness. I didn’t go to the bathroom. He drove me home. He dropped me off. He stuck his hand out the window without looking back and waved. Those pancakes were the first thing I thought about when he died three years later. And when I make them, I can’t help but hear the sound of Brian Wilson’s voice and my dad singing along.

Yields10 – 12 cakes and a glass case of emotion

Ingredients

1 1/2 cup (188 g) all-purpose flour (or 1-to-1 for my gluten-free homies)
1 tablespoon (15 g) sugar
1 tablespoon (12 g) brown sugar
1 tablespoon (6 g) powdered peanut butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2 teaspoons (9 g) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cup (300 ml) buttermilk
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons (30 ml) vegetable oil
2 bananas (one quartered and chopped, the other sliced in rounds)
1/2 cup (59 g) chopped walnuts, divided
Maple syrup, for serving

INSTRUCTIONS

If your oven has a “warm” setting, turn it on; otherwise just put it at the lowest heat you can get and place a sheet pan on the middle rack. Think of it as an insurance policy to keep your cakes hot while you’re working on the stove. This way everything will be the same temperature when it’s time to serve.
In a large mixing bowl, add the flour, sugars, powdered peanut butter, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda and salt, and whisk to combine. In another bowl, add the buttermilk, eggs, vanilla and oil, and whisk until the eggs are fully incorporated. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until the majority of the lumps are gone but there are still some left. You don’t need the batter to be perfectly smooth. (This sentiment also applies to your thighs.)
Gently fold in the chopped banana and ¼ cup (29 g) of the walnuts. Spray a large skillet with cooking spray and heat on medium. Mentally divide your pan into four quadrants and spoon about ⅓ cup (75 g) of batter into each space. Or you can cook them however you want, there’s no reason to be precious about pancakes even if they do remind me of my dead father.
When batter bubbles start to come to the top and pop, it’s time to flip. Cook them for another minute or so on the other side and then transfer them to the oven. Repeat until there’s no batter left. Plate your stack and top with the banana rounds, the rest of the walnuts and a satisfying amount of maple syrup that is up to your own discretion. There are no rules in love and grief.