You Want How Much Butter on That?

What better way to start a food blog than with butter. Nutritionists may hate it, but many of us admit to a certain guilty glee when butter is mentioned. I was transfixed recently by a recipe, found in this book, that included two sticks of butter melted and poured into waffle batter perfect for Sunday mornings.



Though in our home Sunday morning usually means a mad scramble to get everyone fed, dressed, and out the door to church, sometimes it’s worth it to sleep in, slow down, go to the late service, and meantime mix up a batch of waffles. The lazy stirring of ingredients and the quick hot scent of baking batter savored during a stolen morning at home puts me in a serene mood.

Ten years ago, though, I would not have dropped “serene Sunday morning” and “waffles” in the same sentence. I despised waffles and the whole waffle-making process, especially the part where I had to beat the egg whites separately (who needs another bowl to clean) and the other part where I had to extract the waffles from the clutches of the sub-par appliance I owned. In addition to that, the fickle heating element either burned the waffles (and me as I extracted them), or left them doughy and limp.

I have very painful memories of trying to make waffles.

Eventually I threw out my clunker of a waffle iron and broke my usual guideline of no processed foods in the house by buying frozen waffles, which the family gobbled up. No fuss, no mess, no blistered fingers. In my household ledger, happy family plus happy food provider equals culinary success.

But as I recently contemplated committing myself to a food blog, I figured that to be fair I’d have to be open-minded about all kinds of foods. Whether the food was ugly, scant, slimy, or included separately-beaten egg whites, I had to have an open palate. Yes, that included trying dreaded waffles again.

Funny thing is I’ve had a beautiful brand-new waffle iron in my kitchen for several years. Its sleek chrome lid covers gorgeous non-stick, deeply-grooved plates. Memory is tough to erase, however, and I had never used it.

Until last Sunday.

Armed with a recipe that graciously allowed me to dump the eggs in whole, I mixed up a batter so easy I thought for a moment I was making muffins. When the steam subsided, the crisp yet light waffles lifted right out. The family tucked in, and I made a note to take frozen waffles off my shopping list template.

With a slice of salty pork roll alongside and a mound of blueberries and whipped cream on top, this pastry is a Sunday morning tribute to ease, tranquility, and culinary satisfaction.

Of course, if you want you can have yours with butter.