When I was little, I always looked forward to the rain. Rainy days meant one thing to me: pajeon, a crispy Korean scallion pancake, often loaded with meat or seafood. My mom would get out her old, dented, red electric griddle pan, plug it in, and drizzle it generously with oil. She would crank up the plastic black dial, and once the pan was hot, she’d carefully lay out an array of scallions, mixed with some wild garlic and even onion grass that she had foraged from our backyard. Then, came a scattering of ground pork—and sometimes other leftovers from the fridge, too—followed by a sprinkle of sliced red chiles. To bind it all together, she’d drizzle a few ladles of a simple, seasoned flour-and-water batter right over the top. I distinctly remember the mouthwatering sizzling sound the pancakes made as they cooked—much like the sound of rain, which is …