Sunday Waffles

I think of waffles as a Sunday thing. When we were kids, Dad would take us to mass while Mom, who was not a Catholic, had a more leisurely morning. She got to sleep in a bit and, once she arose and had drunk a cup or two of coffee, she made the waffle batter so it was ready when we got home, roaring hungry. In those days, Catholics didn't eat before taking communion, so we were always hungry as sharks after church. She made the batter from scratch, as this was before the advent of so many convenience foods, beating the egg whites separately for maximum waffle loft. I don't know what happened to my mother's round waffle baker, trusty appliance that it was.

I got my own vintage waffle iron from a second hand shop called The Fixer's Offerings, back before "vintage" was a marketing concept. Once heated, it makes two waffles at a time, faster than the two of us can eat them - they bake for less than two minutes before emerging perfectly crisp and golden brown. I could easily serve waffles for a crowd from this single iron. The only drawback is that the little on-off switches on the front get searingly hot while it's baking - one must be careful not to touch them with bare fingers. Otherwise, it has been a wonderful addition to my kitchen.

Last Sunday, we arose with the idea of waffles on our minds. My Beloved has a way of halving the recipe on the Bisquick box, and that makes exactly the right number for two. He halves everything but the egg, and cuts the milk down by one third to compensate for the extra egg. 

We had only two strips of bacon left from a previous meal, so we decided to brown them briefly in a pan, then cut them up and add them to the waffle batter for even more flavor. That has to be one of the better ideas we have ever had. I recommend it.

As you can see, I got carried away with the amount of batter, but the bacon waffles were killer, a great way to start a beautiful Sunday morning. Slathered with butter and covered in a sticky blanket of real maple syrup, they really hit the spot. The little bits of salty bacon in the waffles was a pleasing contrast to the sweet syrup. 

I could start a whole treatise here about the best grade of real maple syrup, but I will settle for some advice. "Grade A Light Amber" is all you need to know. Don't settle for less and don't even think about that stuff that never saw a maple tree in its life. A little coffee and the Sunday funnies, and you have a great morning.

Some friends of ours were meeting for a morning hike and, fortified with waffles, we joined them for a nice five-mile jaunt. Our feet were weary afterward but we never ran out of energy, thanks to those waffles.