Waffle House

One morning, very soon after our wedding, John announced that he wanted waffles. It took me by surprise, because my husband is just not a breakfast guy. I'm not afraid to out him on this - he's a protein shake guy. Maybe he thought eating homemade waffles together would really seal the deal? The conversation went down something like this, and if you know us both, you'll hear it:

J: Make me waffles?

K: We don't have a waffle maker.

J: Oh. Make me waffles?

K: Honey, I can't make you waffles without a waffle maker.

J: Can't you do it on the stove or something?

K: Those are called pancakes.

J: I hate pancakes.

Believe me, this conversation would have gone on for days. So I bought a waffle maker. It's a red beauty of a Cuisinart that I got at 45% off because it was a floor model.

Ok, waffle maker purchased. Next, learn to make waffles. Heh heh. There are a lot of waffle recipes out there. And since this quest began, there have been several waffle disasters in my house that were the source of much cursing. The most egregious error turned into an item we nicknamed, the baffle. Or the wagel - dense like a bagel and heavy like a brick. Not ideal. I realize now that the main mistake here was waaaayyy over-filling the waffle maker. (Yeah, I realized this when batter started squirting out the sides. What?)

I finally arrived on a great buttermilk waffle recipe from Bon Appetit. And I learned the two most important lessons of waffle making. Number 1 is "a little dab'l do ya." Really, a half a cup per waffle at the most. Do. Not. Over. Fill. And Number 2 is "trust the machine." Do not open the door until the buzzer sounds. Trust me. Trust it. Trust the process. It went well.

Yesterday, we enjoyed perfectly cooked waffles that were crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside and light and airy as our new marriage! (I said that with a straight face.) But if he wakes up next weekend and asks for crepes... he's getting cereal.