San Franciscan Serves Up 800-Plus Pancakes to Bring Joy to His Neighborhood

Fluffy, buttery, soft and oh, so very reassuring — pancakes, for thousands upon thousands of years, have comforted humans in their time of need.

Deep in the stunningly preserved gut of Ötzi the Iceman, a 5,300-year-old archaeological discovery in Italy, researchers found remains of a primitive precursor to pancakes, a stomach-filling last meal which may have comforted the ancient human before he froze to death in a cave. Thousands of years later, Greek philosopher-doctor-writer Galen created a recipe for "teganitai" — literally, "pan cakes" — a precursor to what we today smother in butter and maple syrup.

And so it was, the year 2022, pancakes were again called upon to rescue the moods of weary, pandemic-worn folk in our little hamlet of San Francisco.

No, not just one pancake, or several, but more than 800 served hot, free of monetary recompense, for empty-bellied city dwellers waltzing through the Bernal Heights neighborhood, flipped by one Chef Curtis Kimball. He's the former owner of the now-defunct, but much-beloved, Creme Brulee Cart (it closed in 2016, according to Eater SF). His sudden need for flapjackery stirred after he felt nostalgic for human contact amid our ever-shifting pandemic distancing (a familiar feeling for the fortunate work-from-home types).

And with so much COVID-19 tumultuousness — masks flying off, masks strapping on, stores opening, stores closing, abundant confusion and way, way too much time inside (for some) — Kimball said serving up some warm comfort food felt like a great way to help his neighbors rekindle their neighborly tendencies.

"I just wanted to connect with people in my neighborhood and start building back the thin fabric of community," he said. "It felt like the right time to do it."

While he spoke to KQED shortly before serving up more pancakes to the masses, a big breakfast on Saturday, Feb. 12, this is actually his second go-round at serving pancakes to his neighbors. Last month was the inaugural run of the effort, and people came flocking for flapjacks.

More than 75 folks munched and mingled, leading Kimball to gleefully pour his batter, flip his hotcakes, and flop them onto strangers' plates for two hours straight. It was worth the effort, he said: In a now somewhat-viral Twitter thread, Kimball called the experience "rejuvenating" as people just sat together and talked. 

"It felt really good," he said later. "It's hard to explain. I like being at the center of the action, but I don't really like being the center of attention."

So Kimball spread joy through his pancakes, while everyone around him ate, simmering delightedly in a bubbling batter of goodwill.

And no, it wasn't precisely social media that brought people in, though his tweets later garnered many views. Initially, Kimball spread the word through off-kilter flyers posted around the neighborhood, one of which claimed his wife thinks he's gotten "weird" since he's spent so much time inside.

The flyers caught neighbors' eyes. Allan Horrocks used to run a nearby record store and remembered Kimball from his creme brulee cart days. When he saw the flyers, he came running: "I was like, yeah, I gotta definitely go to that. And the pancakes are delicious!"

Kimball said that while the alleged quote from his wife was a bit of a stretch, it certainly hits on the point of serving up flapjacks to his neighbors — social connection, in a time when we've all gotten a little weird.

"The interesting thing about the first pancake thing is I got to talk to a lot of people, and I will tell you everyone's social skills are not tip-top," Kimball said. "We have been inside a long time and we are not as charming as we used to be. But it's fun to see people get out there and just take some shots in the dark. And you know, it worked."

Kimball's neighbor, Aditya Koolwal, was there Saturday morning eating pancakes with his two kids. He said any preliminary awkwardness was worth the chance to get out and meet some new people. "That's why you live in a city, to do stuff like this," he said. "When things are dead, it doesn't really feel like you're getting the value out of being in a city."

For his second go-round, Kimball also had help: Some of his old employees and his in-laws pitched in at three griddles. His mother-in-law, Candice Evans, visiting for the week from Delaware, was amused by the whole situation and said, "Curtis always makes it interesting."

Kimball's wife kindly took care of their two kids, a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old, and made deliveries of bowls of fresh batter from inside the house to the curbside griddles.

While his neighbors expressed much delight, and lined up down the block to test Kimball's cakes, his 4-year-old daughter offered perhaps his most rave review.

"She kept yelling, 'You're the best daddy ever!'" he said. "So that made me feel good. You always want your kids to be proud of you, even if it's fleeting."

If there's one message Kimball wants everyone to take from his griddle-handling, it's this: "Hopefully, everyone is inspired. Let's make San Francisco cool again, like super cool, like whatever thing you want to do to add to the beauty and creativity and just celebration of life that is San Francisco. You should do that. It's go time."

That is, after you finish your pancakes.

An earlier version of this story referred to Thomas Jefferson's liking for "griddle cakes" made by his "governess," an erroneous reference to enslaved woman Sally Heming. The reference has been removed.