Friday, June 17, 2011
Nelle and I make lots of waffles. I’m sure I may have mentioned that? (here? and here?) Seriously, they’re a favourite at our house. And if you have to ask why, then you obviously haven’t been living life to its fullest. (i.e. with waffles.)
They’re easy to make, can include lots of healthy, wholesome ingredients (like fruit puree, or grated veggies, or wholemeal flours, or coconut milk) and are the perfect medium for butter. What else has perfect, built-in butter catchers??
“Mummy, can we make waffles?” Nelle says.
She’s still in her pj’s. So we tie the checkered apron on her that belonged to my grandmother, and she cracks eggs and stirs flour into milky batter. She wipes her hands purposefully over the green and white checks. And I pour the batter into the hot iron and we wait. wait. wait. Till I pry our waffles out – hot and crispy - and we slather them in hot butter and dribble maple syrup over them. We cut them into hearts and eat them with our fingers.
And eventually we persuade Daddy to emerge from bed and join us … because he’s not particularly a morning person, after all. (We love him anyway). And waffles – unlike bacon – are not adequate incentive for our slumbering bear to leave his warm den.
On these mornings, when we make waffles, I imagine a future where Nelle makes waffles with her own daughter. Who will laugh, and talk incessantly, and do random yoga poses on her stepstool.
And she’ll always remember the mornings we made waffles.