Honey, relax – have a waffle

IMG_2457You know things are too hectic when you’re reclined in your dentist’s chair thinking, “Well, this is relaxing!”

These last weeks, since the holidays really, it’s been too busy, too crazy.  I’ve lost a sense of myself.  The frigid and indifferent grip of winter doesn’t help.  Instead of pouring a stout to sink my winter sorrows in, I talked on the telephone with my 4-year-old niece.  As the wind and snow outside swirled to a screaming wail through the cracks around the windows, the little voice on the other end of the IMG_2459phone was telling me a story about summer time.  It was a little disjointed and meandering – as every good four year old’s story is, but it focused when she said she loved summer time the best, “because that’s when the bees make honey”, and she went on to describe the mysterious and beautiful flight of bees from flower to flower, albeit in a four year old way.  The simplicity and wisdom of her statement floored me.  I realized too that my hectic busy-ness is my own buzzing, my own making…. and I regret to say my end product isn’t honey. [gearhead edits: nobody’s end product is honey, everyone’s “end product” is sh*t] {wife edts: thanks Mr. Gearhead.  I’ll be sure to call on you instead of the depression hot line. What about art?  What about cooking?  What about the lines of your European race cars?]  [Geaarhead edits:  grumble].  Winter, it’s time for you to go.

IMG_2455As I’ve said before, cooking really helps to “soldier through” the darker times.  The creation of something you can eat, bringing component ingredients together, can start in a fog and finish with a small, crystal clear, win, “ I made this!  And it’s delicious!”

Let’s shift a little from the honey theme [wife edits: a good one I’ll address in a future post], but not too far, the word waffle has the Frankish etymological root wafla, which means honeycomb.  A breakfast of these gets you off to a good start in the morning. The other day when I made them, I turned to Goes to Eleven [child number one] and said I IMG_2461thought they needed a bit more cinnamon.  She agreed.  The Gearhead, on the other hand offered his opinion too, “or less porridge.  What are these crunchy bits?”  I probably should have pre-soaked the oatmeal a little longer.  So there’s a couple of extra tips.  These are great though.  The recipe comes from Anita Stewart’s cookbook, Canada [wife edits: great cookbook].   Of course you could top these with honey, but maple syrup is better.

Oatmeal and Whole Wheat Waffles

1 ½ cups (375ml) rolled oatsIMG_2460

2 cups (500 ml) milk

½ cup (125 ml) whole wheat flour

½ cup (125 ml) all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon (15 ml)  packed brown sugar

1 tablespoon (15 ml) baking powder

1 teaspoon (5ml) salt

½ teaspoon (2 ml) cinnamon

2 eggs, beaten

¼ cup (60 ml) butter, melted

In a large bowl, stir together the oats and the milk.  Let stand for 10-15 minutes to let the oats soften.  In a separate bowl, combine the whole wheat and all purpose flours, brown sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon.  Add to the rolled oat mixture along with the eggs and melted butter, stirring until no dry spots remain.  For each waffle, pour 1/3 cup (75ml) batter onto a hot, lightly oiled waffle iron, cooking until golden on both sides.


This entry was published on February 13, 2014 at 6:38 am. It’s filed under Morning Foods, Winter and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “Honey, relax – have a waffle

  1. Love this, I like the way you tell stories/share reflections.

    I know too many people that are buzzing, the world just seems to be go going faster.

    I will try your waffle recipe – slow and yummy.

    Julie On Feb 13, 2014 6:38 AM, “Food by the Gearhead’s Wife” wrote:

    > Food by the Gearhead’s Wife posted: “You know things are too hectic > when you’re reclined in your dentist’s chair thinking, “Well, this is > relaxing!” These last weeks, since the holidays really, it’s been too busy, > too crazy. I’ve lost a sense of myself. The frigid and indifferent grip > o”


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