A Taste of the Cabin

I opened my email this morning to find proof that someone reads this stuff. 

(Ahem)

A reader requested a recipe. 

Woah.

Waffle Guy's Easy "Brownies"

2 c. Graham Cracker Crumbs

1 8-oz. can Sweetened Condensed Milk

Halfish bag Semisweet Chocolate Chips (Okay, so we used 2/3 of a bag. So?)

A daring spoonful of high-quality vanilla extract

Combine all ingredients until they make a cement-like dough, taking extra care to sample the sweetened condensed milk (you know, for quality control purposes...and stuff...). Mix until your arm is stiff--this shouldn't take long. Bake at 350 or so until the top is ever-so-lightly golden and the edges are a lovely golden brown. Allow to cool for a bit before cutting, or you'll make a mess.

Waffle Guy's Candied Nuts

2/3 c. granulated sugar

3 T. cinnamon

3 T. water

1 1/2 c. of your favorite nuts (the kind you eat, not the kind to whom you're related)

In a preheated pan, combine all ingredients, stirring rapidly and constantly until you truly believe your nuts are destined to be contained in a slimy layer until the end of time, at which point you actually have only 20 seconds left to stir. All of a sudden, the liquid will turn into a grainy, pretty candy layer. Remove pot from heat, adding 1 more tablespoon of water to separate your newly candied nut confections. Stir some more. Lay flat on a cookie sheet to cool, or go street vendor and serve them warm, from a paper cone. Eat until satisfied. Follow with nap on couch with a warm, soft puppy.

There. How's that for precise writing?

Dispatch from the Tundra: In Luck for Tasty European Snacks

In the tiny town of Luck, Wisconsin, on the shores of Big Butternut Lake, lies the cabin where Waffle Guy's family has been retreating for nearly three decades. The Waffle Kids and I have been fortunate to have experienced the cabin on several occasions in the summer, and have enjoyed its offerings tremendously.

With real life doing its best to interfere with travel planning (it's been nearly two months since Waffle Guy and I have left Flyover Country, and we have no current travel dates on the horizon), we've been getting a little stir crazy. Thinking a midwinter cabin adventure might relieve some, uh, cabin fever, we decided to spend New Year's in Luck. Trust us. It made sense at the time.

So we planned. We packed sleds and snowpants for all. We discussed our best sledding options. We dreamed about crafting snowmen and warming up with hot cocoa by the fireplace. It was all perfect, in our heads. But Mother Nature had some ideas of her own, and we wound up learning that sometimes the best weekend is one with no plans.

Day 1: Waffle Dog enjoys some of the freedoms that cabin life affords her. We play Single Digit Snow Fetch until our arms are too numb to throw the squeaky tennis ball. She romps in the crunchy snow, stopping only to sniff rabbit tracks or dart after a squirrel. Noting that it's gotten quite chilly outside, Waffle Guy suggests that we may want to remain quiet about sledding unless a Waffle Kid mentions it. I agree, although I am disappointed. This is, after all, why God made quality gloves. 

Waffle Guy distracts us all from outdoor fun by teaching the girls to bake his "Easy Brownies", which are not, in fact, brownies at all. Rather, they're what any good Minnesota church lady would call "bars". But they are delicious, and they are addictive, and they are easy, and I find myself concerned that I will be eating a lot on this trip.

Day 2: We awake to find that our bedroom is cold. Really cold. Like, the kind of cold where you can't get out of bed without wrapping yourself in a blankie, burrito style. I would have simply stayed in bed all day, except that Waffle Dog is whining. 

Stumbling out of bed, I open the sliding glass door to let her outside. That's when the magic happens. The outside air is so cold that you can literally see it coming in as it meets the comparatively warm air of our bedroom. A cloud of steam curls in through the doorway in an ominous manner, and Waffle Dog looks at me as if to say, "Hell, no." I cannot force even a dog to go outside.

We look up the local temperature to discover that the air was a whopping -18F. The Guy gazes at me with pleading eyes. Sledding is officially out of the picture. 

In lieu of sled time, we decide to cook. The morning starts with Jungle Animal Pancakes, molded to be shaped like monkeys, elephants and lions. They aren't waffles, but they are pretty darn good with bananas and chocolate chips. 

For lunch, we attack the arsenal of powdered mixes that the Guy has collected from Germany, and so it is that the Waffle Kids learn the lesson of the Frickin'Awesome. See, Waffle Guy and I once stopped at a rest area cafe in Germany because I was starving and whiny. His attempt to silence my grumbling was successful: this particular cafe gave birth to my first frikadelle, a perfect little wad of meat, mixed with bread crumbs, seasoned to onion-y perfection and pan fried in plenty of greasy deliciousness. I renamed the meatloaf/meatball/burger/miracle  the "Frickin'Awesome", and I've been craving it ever since.

We have to doctor the frikadellen a bit to make them kid-friendly, but a slice of cheese and a dallop of Heinz ketchup go a long way, and the Little Waffles were delighted. The Guy and I have ours with delicious brown mustard, and I find myself drifting away to a picnic table on the side of an autobahn, somewhere between Neuschwanstein and God-knows-where. Heaven.

For dinner, Waffle Guy transports me back to Germany yet again for a visit with my old friend currywurst. With delicious sausages he procured from a rural Wisconsin grocer, and a powdered sauce mix he obtained from a grocer in urban Deutschland, we have a proper German greasy-spoon dinner. I might have died from fullness right there, but we aren't done. 

You see, Waffle Guy has been hanging on to a nut-roasting pan, and it is time to candy some nuts. And candy nuts we do: almonds, cashews and pecans all fall victim to cinnamon-sugary snack-tacular joyness. 

I eat gluttonously, and then proceed to lay in bed and plead with the gods to forgive my indiscretions. Secretly, though, I intend to relive that day's menu as soon as possible.

Day 3: It's Sunday, so of course breakfast is waffles. In this case, it's pre-packaged imported Belgian waffles that my Guy found at a grocery store in Luck. They are dry, and they've got nothing on our waffles, but they'll do in a pinch.

We have to return home early to get Thing One to piano lessons. Plus, we have tickets to Disney's Beauty and the Beast at the phenomenal Ordway Center for the Performing Arts.

Before the show, we stop at Cosetta in St. Paul for our quarterly mostaccioli fix, and for poignant punctuation on the weekend's theme: Even in life's coldest moments, my world is full of warmth and flavor. 

My soul is fed. My heart is warmed. And my cheeks are flushed, for the thrill of it all. 

People Who Get It, and the Second Beginning of Resolutions

In my annual Christmas Gift Recap, I errantly omitted the gift that was most appropriate for this blog: Wafflers, meet Belgian Waffles Shampoo, Shower Gel & Bubble Bath by the ever-wonderful Philosophy. It smells like a Belgeezian waffle, and has a recipe on the front. We will try the recipe, although I am skeptical that anyone other than Papa Peter from Bruges makes a better waffle than we do. Just sayin'.

Anyway, that gift was given to me by Waffle Guy's eldest daughter, and it's pretty darn good proof that she Gets It.

There are others who Get It, too. The 318 Cafe's Matty O'Reilly brilliantly added waffles to the breakfast menu a couple of months back, hereby making him one of my personal heroes. Granted, they're a variation of the Brussels waffle, which is a different beast than the Liege waffle of my longing, but they're delicious nonetheless.

My friends Chris and Jackie decided to broaden my waffle horizons last fall, and gave me a waffle cone maker for my birthday. That was in October, and I've yet to use it, which makes me both an ingrate and a procrastinator.

Nevertheless, they Get It, and I will honor their gift in the new year by obtaining a worthy ice cream maker so that my homemade waffle cones can contain homemade ice cream. It's only right.

Which leads me to Resolution Number 3: Buy an ice cream maker. Use it often. This is highly important stuff. I've tentatively picked out this one from Williams-Sonoma, which I think is a practical and reasonable first ice cream maker. The Guy and I are neither practical nor reasonable when it comes to kitchen gadgets, however, and so we'll see what we end up getting.

While we're on the topic of resolutions, I read a fascinating story in the New York Times today. Apparently, social scientists have begun an exploration into the human tendency to procrastinate when it comes to pleasure. For example, you get a gift certificate to your favorite restaurant as a holiday gift. Why is it that you're so likely to lose the certificate or let it expire?

Reporter John Tierney notes that "Once you start procrastinating pleasure, it can become a self-perpetuating process if you fixate on some imagined nirvana. The longer you wait to open that prize bottle of wine, the more special the occasion has to be."

This made me feel even guiltier for slacking on the cone-making, but it drove home the point. I don't want to deprive myself of joy because I don't make it a priority. I want to taste the waffly goodness right now, today, because my waffle cone maker could be smashed by a meteor tomorrow, and then I'd regret never making the most of what I have. Cliched, but true...

Long story short, buying an ice cream maker and using it often is an important resolution, because it means so much more than just buying an ice cream maker. It means equipping myself to use what I have. It means a commitment to the Waffle Experience, a willingness to explore life's sweetest, richest treasures.

And I think that's a worthy resolution.

Christmas 2009: The Recap

I've always been fascinated by the difference between self-perception and the perceptions held by others about one's self. It's interesting to me that most of my friends will describe me as gregarious and outgoing, when I consider myself a bit timid and kind of an introvert. I've often been complimented in the past for being socially gracious, but most days I feel incredibly awkward.

If I had to guess, I'd say that it's probably a little universal to struggle with one's self-image. I know beautiful women who believe themselves plain. I have friends who fail to recognize their tremendous talents. And I know plenty of people who are blind to their weaknesses, too. This interests me terribly: Which person am I? Am I the person I believe myself to be? Or am I the woman that other people see?

That's why I'm always delighted when life offers me a glimpse into myself through the eyes of those around me, and there's no better opportunity to explore the perceptions of one's friends and family then by taking a look at the gifts they give you. And so, a few years ago, I began a tradition of writing down a list of my Christmas gifts. Here are the highlights:

1. Primula Glass Teapot Gift Set. A funky little glass teapot and four cups. The teapot is made for flowering teas, which are loose teas that are artfully tied to open in the shapes of flowers.
2. Garnishing Book and Kit. Comes with a book on how to make beautiful garnishes, plus a butter curler, a double-headed melon baller, a peeler, and a lemon zester.
3. Funny little coin pouch made from post-consumer recycled materials. It has a picture of a mama bunny driving a station wagon, and shows a couple of dozen baby bunnies in the back seats. At the top, it reads, "Don't MAKE me stop this car." Sales from the pouch benefit the Nature Conservancy.
4. Gift card to Macy's.
5. Funky little goldish-toned pearl necklace.
6. Pashmina shawl. Reversable, in berry and teal tones. Very feminine.
7. The Dog Tricks and Training Workbook. Comes with 30 "Trick Cards" for tracking progress, and a DVD with live demonstrations for teaching. (Waffle Dog has mastered "Paws Up", "Spin", and "Bow" since Christmas, by the way. She's brilliant.)
8. Unbelievable beautiful cowhide bag with tribal bracelets for buckles.
9. World's softest, coziest robe from Restoration Hardware, in garnet. I wish that I had fur, and that it was made of this stuff.
10. Organic Dog Biscuit Cookbook Kit, complete with cookie cutters in the shapes of bones, fire hydrants, and squirrels.
11. Assortment of cute clothes from Gap, all soft and cozy.
12. Brave Story by Miyuki Miyabe.
13. A Waffle Maker, with different features than our previous waffle maker. Of course.
14. A donation to Heifer International.

It's kind of fun, to try to figure out what it is about any given present that made someone think "Kate needs that." When you think about the motivation behind the gifts you receive, it really does make the thought count most. This year, for example, I feel like my loved ones think I'm a socially aware, highly fashionable, literate domestic goddess with a penchant for snuggly things and a passion for her dog. Or maybe they think that I REALLY need help in the kitchen. Either way, some of those descriptors perfectly jive with my self-image, and others are laughable. But it's fun to look at the themes.

I'm wondering about you. What were your favorite gifts? And what do they say about you?

I See Waffles Everywhere (A Waffly Sort of Resolution)

It's been months since I've written here, which is a little bit shameful. Please forgive my neglect.

Truth be told, I'm not sure it was actually neglect as much as self-doubt that led me to stop blogging. It's not like we gave up on our project. On the contrary, we've settled into a lovely little Sunday routine. We've very nearly perfected our recipe, and we believe Papa Peter, maker of The Waffle That Started It All, would be proud. We've served waffles at Christmas parties, and sent them home with kids. We are Waffle Scientists, and we are proud of that.

The problem is that somewhere along the line, I started to wonder whether anyone would ever read any of this, as if that was my reason for writing in the first place. And then, on the off chance that someone would read it, I found myself laden with anxiety about whether simply recounting recipe after recipe would be enough to keep a reader engaged. The point is, I was missing the point.

I started this blog as a place to write creatively, and waffles were the impetus in part because they represented a delicious and exciting moment in my life. They were a tangible representation of the love I felt at a particular moment in time. And I wanted to explore that love, to understand how it worked and what made it so magical. Metaphorically speaking, waffles are everywhere: They are those moments in life when you stop to notice what's going on. They are rich and dense and sensuous and sweet, and they make you crave more.

And so, I'm expanding the content of The Waffle Quest to include all sorts of Waffle Moments. While I'll still subject anyone silly enough to read this to the occasional recap of Waffle Sunday, I hereby pledge that at least once per week, I will update this blog with the heavy dough-y goodness of life. And then maybe I won't worry so much about my content being too narrow in its focus.

That's resolution Number 2 for 2010. More to follow.

Unconditional Love in the Name of Waffles

I have been an absentee Blog Mom as of late, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me when you understand why.

 Waffle Guy took me to Bruges again! I knew it was coming, and took a bit of a break from blogging to create an aura of suspense before the trip. Unfortunately, we left our camera at a friend’s house in Germany, and blogging without photographic evidence seemed pointless—even gauche—and so my break got longer. We received our camera in the mail not long ago, and are beginning the daunting task of analyzing the photographic content for appropriate waffle-related matter. We have much to report, and I assure you that many tales from the trip—including a second encounter with The Greatest Waffle Ever in the History of the Whole World—will be posted soon.

 And then we got some really, really big and unexpected news. The Waffle Family, it seems, was destined to add a member. Waffle Guy and I are now proud new parents.

 Meet Gracie, the Waffle Dog.

 Okay, so she’d rather eat kibble than a waffle at this point, but that’s only because we haven’t figured out how to make Meat Waffles for her yet. We’re working on it.

 Unlike her human siblings, Waffle Dog has demonstrated absolutely no talent for waffle preparation. No work ethic, either. She’s never lifted a paw to help us on our Sunday morning quests for deliciousness. As far as we can tell, she’s never even licked a drop of spilled batter from the floor.

 At first, we were concerned about her lack of interest in our greatest source of joy. Could it be that our precious new baby wasn’t, in fact, made of the stuff of a True Waffler? As time has passed, however, we have grown to be accepting of her differences, and are making an effort to love our Waffle Dog for who she is, and not for who we want her to be.

Until we buy our second waffle maker and perfect the art of Dog Waffles. If she doesn’t like them then, we’re cutting her off. Tough love, you know?

So much more to report soon.

News from the Waffle Front

Two amazing things have happened in recent days regarding the quest for the perfect waffle and the documentation thereof. 

First, we found out that actual people read our blog. 

Second, we found out that our readership is actually cool. The percentage of awesome readers may be very small, or it may be huge, depending on whether we have a very small or a very large number of readers, but that's neither here nor there. The point is, we have readers who are cool, and we have proof.

It began when Unsuspecting Waffle Guy went to work on a recent weekday morning. His workload that day was high, and things weren't going according to plan, and he was grumbly (in fact, Grumbly Unsuspecting Waffle Guy might be a more apt name for him on that particular day). 

I felt bad for the fella, and was crafting a plan to cheer him up, when all of a sudden my phone rang.

"Did you get the picture?" Woah. Grumbly Unsuspecting Waffle Guy sounded actually chipper. But no, I hadn't received the picture. He would need to explain what had perked him up.

Turns out, he'd brought some delicious Neuhaus chocolates from Belgeezia to share with his office, and the box in which he'd delivered them had been returned with a note. It was printed on a hand-made pink and yellow notecard, and it read:

Dear Waffle Guy & Waffle Girl,

We are intrigued with your never-ending quest for the perfect waffle. Your ongoing diligence to Waffle Nirvana is indeed impressive.

Please re-fill this box with your scrumptious creations so that we may enjoy the fruits of your labor. 

Sincerely, 

The Waffle Groupies

P.S. You may need a much larger box.

Omg. I might be in love with Waffle Guy's coworkers. They made a card, and they un-grumped my Guy. They are amazing...

Of course, at some point I will fulfill their request. But first I must find a box, and figure out how to make a waffle worthy of filling it. 

Notably, this little surprise has left me curious about my readership, or perhaps my lack of readership. I want to know who you are (or aren't). I want to try your waffle recipes. I want to post them, and discuss them, and give credit where it's due. I want trolls to leave nasty little comments about my endless ramblings, and I want to be a Blogger Featured Blog, and I want people to write to Waffle Guy for advice (about waffles, or for that matter, about fashion or dating or whatever other things people write to advice columnists about. He's a wise man, after all). Most importantly, I want to be the place where those in support of tasty treats can unite in the mission of Waffles for All! 

So, make your voice heard, eh? Shoot us an email at wafflequest2009 (at) gmail (dot) com, and let us know what you think.

And I will love you for it, I promise.