New Year Pancakes

And goodbye Substack.

My internal alarm wakes me at 6:10 am on January 1. Except I have no reason to be up other than for the two sleeping guests upstairs. I want to greet them with warm coffee and a delicious breakfast when they come down after a tame(ish) New Year’s Eve, or what the French call la Saint-Sylvestre. Still, they shouldn’t be up for another few hours. It’s ironic how our internal and external clocks are never in sync.

I shift the duvet cover and for a moment, the chilling air of a poorly insulated house brushes the tip of my ears. The choice isn’t very difficult. I quickly pull the duvet back over my head, shielding it from discomfort. Soon after, my body succumbs to the cozy heat beneath the comforter.

When my phone alarm rings at 8:09 am, I feel surprisingly energized. I strain my ears for any signs of early-morning risers, but all I hear is silence. I smile joyfully in the dark as I feel my way around for my slippers and glasses, leaving my slumbering husband in bed. There’s a unique pleasure in being the only individual awake in a house with other people. I can’t really say why.

Timid sunlight seeps into the living room as I draw back the curtains and start the fireplace to assist our inefficient radiators in warming the house. The plan is to make buckwheat pancakes for breakfast, which I had approved by our friends the night before. They are a mixed couple like us and were delighted by the prospect of fusing foods and cultures.

The French often ask if I miss home. I used to interpret this as an invitation to pay lip service to France. Instead, I discover it’s rather a request to hear how the grass is greener on the other side of the pond. I’ve lived in enough places to know there are pros and cons everywhere you go, and explain that I miss the people more than the place. But with time, I realize I also miss the rituals and traditions of my Chinese and French-Canadian heritage.

Brunch and its Cantonese version, dim sum, hold a special place in my heart as a ritualized form of gathering friends and family. They entail specific dishes that I crave and are not readily available in my new country. Authentic Chinese cuisine is rare in France, and brunch has only become popular recently, usually composed of an elaborate continental breakfast instead of the usual eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast.

For my first official meal of the year, I want to eat comfort food, so plan on making pancakes. To pay tribute to my adopted country, I decide to make them with buckwheat, a Breton flour traditionally used to make savoury crêpes in France, which should be thin and crispy. The opposite of the thick, airy pancakes I grew up eating. They are different, but both are equally delicious.

Buckwheat, known as blé noir or sarasin, is gluten-free, thus requiring some resting time for the flour to absorb the liquids properly. Therefore, it’s necessary to prepare the batter at least half an hour in advance.

I mix the ingredients, which are the same for crêpes except for the addition of baking powder. Then I prepare myself a cup of tea and grab a pen, a journal, and a book before settling down beside the fireplace, then stare out into the garden, content. This is my version of the best start to a new year.

My imperfect buckwheat pancakes with crème de marron, maple butter and fromage blanc.

Everyone is up an hour later. The first few pancakes are not visually appealing as I attempt to make three at a time in a medium-sized pan. My husband takes over the stovetop while I set the table. Because he only makes one at a time, his pancakes are perfectly shaped. See, he says, this is better. Sure, except now they can cool off three times faster. I set the oven on low to keep them warm while we cook the rest of the batter. One of my biggest pet peeves is eating tepid food meant to be served hot.

We place the buckwheat pancakes on the table with a plate of fruit and a selection of maple syrup, honey, and some leftover whipped cream from yesterday’s dessert. I also add homemade raspberry jam and crème de marron (a sweet chestnut spread) my mother-in-law made with the raspberries and chestnuts from her garden in the Cevennes.

In the end, my New Year pancakes are ok. They’re tasty, but I would have preferred a fluffier pancake. Then I remember that my most successful recipes are the ones I’ve made many times. Sufficient to make adjustments and discard the recipe when I’ve memorized it.

I tell myself I’ll practice my technique over the coming year so that they will turn out better next time. My friend asks for more crème de marron, which my husband proudly passes to him. This isn’t really a new ritual. Only the company and the environment are new. I remember all the friends I've celebrated New Year's with over the past decade and send them thoughts of gratitude as they rest or go to sleep in distant places.

I have a fondness for ritualized gatherings, which have faded from my life. They offer us a chance to pause and unite, to acknowledge the passage of time, which often feels like a blur nowadays. But most importantly, they present moments of connection with one another. I declare the beginning of a new tradition to my husband and newfound friends in our recently acquired home. We should gather every January 1st to eat buckwheat pancakes. They happily agree with their mouths full.

Soon after, I jot down a few other fêtes to commemorate over the coming weeks in my calendar. I don’t want to wait for another season or holiday to celebrate something. They bring us joy and offer us something to anticipate.

In France, people still widely celebrate several Christian traditions following December 25. However, they’re more of an excuse to enjoy special treats with friends and family. There’s Epiphany on January 6 when the French gather to eat la galette des roi, a puffed pastry filled with frangipane, which is actually a month-long affair because people find excuses to eat them at school events, staff meetings, and even at their local sports clubs. Then there’s Candlemas, or Chandeleur in French, when everyone eats crêpes on February 2, because why shouldn’t there be a holiday to eat their beloved thin pancakes?

Chinese New Year is also never far behind during this period. I’m contemplating throwing a dumpling-making party now that I have space to host and cook. It’s not exactly traditional, but it upholds my criteria for honouring important dates by cooking special dishes with enjoyable company.

For some reason, I only learned now that the Chinese New Year marks the end of winter on the lunar calendar. This makes sense to me, having often experienced seasonal shifts in late January or early February. But this year, it coincides with January 1, I can’t explain why.

The state of the world hasn’t improved, but maybe it hasn’t worsened either. Regardless, I can’t help feeling a tad more optimistic. In the end, there’s only one thing humans really need, isn’t it?

Hope.

A recap on 2023

My New Year pancakes remind me of my writing over the past year. It was ok, but not yet satisfying. I’ve practiced a lot in the past twelve months, more than ever. And yet my word pancakes are still irregular and lacking. There’s only one thing to do: keep going.

Here are some other lessons learned in 2023:

• Pay attention to what serves you and what doesn’t. I’m trying to be more conscious about what I consume in terms of content, information, entertainment, food, energy, and people. Do they inspire, motivate, or help me become a better person? Or do they do the opposite? Let go of everything that falls in the latter case.

Somewhat related to this, is this

Austin Kleon

post.

Remembering what you want out of books

• Recurring thorns in my ass mean something requires my attention. The longer I ignore them, the longer they will remain an issue. As a friend of mine said, “What’s driving you crazy right now? You should prioritize working on that thing first.”

• As another wise friend said to me, “Don’t should all over yourself.”

• When things aren’t going well, it usually means:

  • There’s a misalignment between my actions and my values.

  • I need serious rest.

  • The well is empty and requires refilling.

In terms of writing, last year was my most quantitative, despite its imperfections. This year, I’d like to refine my practice by being more consistent, but also by sharing my work more regularly. For this, I’d like to ask: what frequency would you welcome my writing in your inbox? Monthly, weekly? More or less? Somewhere in between?

What parts of my writing did you enjoy?

Any other requests or suggestions?

Moving off Substack

I’m transferring this newsletter to another platform over the next week. This saddens me somewhat because there were lots of things I liked about Substack. But the company’s recent and—as I’ve discovered—not-so-recent stance, on free speech and the moderation of hateful and racist content, does not align with my values. I can’t ignore this, even though it would be more convenient to do so. I’ll write more about it in another post. Please check your spam if you can’t find this newsletter in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, you can read

Casey Newton

’s reporting on the subject:

Why Substack is at a crossroads

Substack says it will remove Nazi publications from the platform

Why Platformer is leaving Substack

I also encourage you to dig into the matter a bit further to form an opinion for yourself.

This topic—like many other prominent issues today—has prompted questions for me, which I think are worth reflecting upon: What sort of world do we want to inhabit? And what are we willing to do to live in that world?

Now is the perfect time to get started.

Happy writing, happy creating.

G.G. Law