A post over on KILLER CHICKS last week got me to thinking about breakfast food–and the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten. It was tough because I grew up around amazing cooks. I remember Saturday breakfasts in the late fall at the neighbors’ house–quail and dove, homemade biscuits and cream gravy, homemade apple butter, and eggs. And weekend breakfasts at my parents’ house with homemade waffles, thick bacon, ham, sausage, and eggs fixed to order.
I’m going to talk about those waffles today. Because I’m going to be a grandmother. Holy cow! That’s a scary thought. I didn’t mess up The Only too bad. Right? But we didn’t have waffles for breakfast, we had them for dinner. They became comfort food. And part of the comfort was retelling the “legend” of the waffles. Bear with me while I repeat it.
There once was a woman in the small town where my mother grew up. She was renowned for her cooking but she was very stingy with her recipes. A favorite of all the kids–and their parents–was her waffles. If you were very lucky, you were invited to partake. But no matter who asked, or how nicely, the lady wouldn’t share. Many tried to copy the recipe, but nobody’s was ever “quite the same.”
One day, the lady became ill and then she passed away. Many local cooks bemoaned the fact that all her recipes passed with her. And then people started getting packages in the mail–books from the lady’s collection. And tucked inside each book was a handwritten note with a recipe. My mother received the waffle recipe with the caveat that she was not to share until her passing.
Well, that was all well and good, but Mom had a policy that if you cooked you didn’t have clean up. You can bet I learned to cook early! And that included reading the recipes in Mother’s massive recipe box. And that’s when we started having waffles for dinner. Because I didn’t cook breakfast. But dinner? Oh, yeah! To me, those waffles were a gift. They meant family and caring and left me feeling that no matter how bad or scary or uncertain things were, there was always waffles.
I want to share that feeling. Because I’m going to be a grandmother! Yikes! Big scary times ahead, along with love and family and hope for the future. So here. Go make waffles. Eat them. Enjoy them. And find the joy and peace and certainty in family and friends and love and the next generation.
Granny’s Homemade Waffles
1 3/4 cup milk
1/4 t. salt
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon sugar
6 tablespoons butter
Separate eggs. Beat yolks to light yellow. Add other ingredients in listed order. Beat egg whites in separate bowl to light peaks. Fold into batter. Spoon onto preheated waffle iron. Cook to golden brown. Drown with more melted butter and syrup of your choice. Enjoy.
Happy Hump Day, my friends! And if you have any favorite food memories, share. 🙂