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. 

Possibilities and the Art of Exploring Them

It is somewhat likely that Waffle Guy is losing his mind. 

Here's the rundown.

Sometime Last Week:

We decide that we've both gained a bit of waffle weight, and join a health club. Waffle Guy is suddenly a fitness fanatic and The Provider of Delicious Breakfasts. 

Saturday Morning:

Waffle Guy wakes up hellbent on a delicious waffle breakfast. Together with his eldest daughter and her friend, he uses our the Caveman Recipe to create a flat, dense, flavorless waffle that offends the senses of all who taste it. Thankfully, I am picking up my children at this time and remain blissfully ignorant of Bad Wafflery. 

Waffle Guy does not give up. On a whim, he adds 3 tablespoons of brownulated light brown sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla, and 1 3/4 cups of milk. He puts it on the waffle iron. Magic! Together with the Junior Waffle Chefs, he has created the best waffles we've consumed since Belgium. 

He calls me to relay the good news, and to encourage me to 

show up quickly for breakfast. I eat several delicious waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, but it's okay because we've been working out. 

Saturday Afternoon:

We are invited to a send-off party for a friend who is being deployed to Iraq, and we realize it is necessary to bring a snack to share. 

Rummaging through the snack-foods section of Cub Foods, we stumble upon Little Pepi's Pizzelle Waffle Cookies. He picks them up. "But we're here for hummus and pita chips," I remind him. 

"And waffle cookies," he counters.  

We go to the party and play with some tiny dogs, but I can see on his face that he's dreaming about waffles. 

Sunday Morning: 

We attend my daughter's baseball championship tournament. My Guy fetches doughnuts for the lot of us. They are a terribly disappointing breakfast item, now that we know what's possible. 

Monday Morning:

The phone rings. "You'll never guess what I found out!" trumpets Waffle Guy. 

From the tone of his voice, I surmise that he's cured cancer, won the lottery, and inherited an island since I've last spoken with him. "Whadduya know?" I say.

"So...we were using the wrong kind of pearl sugar before. We want Belgian pearl sugar, not Swedish pearl sugar. And you can get it online. Five bucks for eight ounces," he says. "And that's not all! There's a place in Florida and a place in North Carolina where you can get sugar waffles. And they're cheap!"

It is clear why I love him.

Tonight: 

I arrive at my Guy's house after a long, irritating day and make myself some pasta for dinner. He's got plans for dessert. 

Pulling a tube of sugar cookie dough from the refrigerator, he preheats the waffle maker. "Should we try it?" he says, nibbling on some dough. 

We've discussed it before, the idea that Liege waffle batter resembles cookie dough. We've even agreed that we must one day try baking cookie dough in the waffle maker. On one hand, my belly is full of pasta, and it's getting late. But on the other hand...

I resolve to work out harder tomorrow.

The cookie dough experiment, as it turns out, is a horrible failure. Ah, well.  At least we've got Little Pepi's.

Remembering Belgeezia

I'm not sure why we call it Belgeezia. It's certainly more fun to say than "Belgium". Maybe that's why I like my Guy: even geography is fun when he's around.

Places you can't find waffles (but should)...

Number 1: The Aster Cafe

Minneapolis, MN

I don't want to sound creepy, but I'm excellent at being obsessive. You might claim to have obsessions, but I bet I'm better at it than you, at least where sweet treats are concerned. For example, you might decide to become obsessed with chocolate chip cookies. You might bake them daily. You might order them every time you see them at a cafe or coffee shop, and you might eat them daily. But that wouldn't make you obsessed. You'd be a poser.

Unless you got pro-active. Start lecturing your dry-cleaner about the merits of complimentary cookies in the waiting area, or start writing to your congressperson urging legislation that mandates cookie breaks in public schools, and you can claim to be obsessive.

The mark of the truly obsessed is the willingness to go to any length to obtain one's snack of choice at any moment. In my own waffle obsession, that has manifested as a massive scouting mission to determine which restaurants in the greater Minneapolis-St. Paul area ought to sell waffles. And, using my scarcely-read blog as a forum, I will publicly urge those establishments to heed my advice, because I like to play hardball like that.

Maybe someday, I'll sit out in front of those establishments, contentedly munching my perfect homemade waffles and rhapsodizing to anyone who will listen about how they shouldn't patronize those uncooperative, non-waffle-carrying restaurants, and encouraging a citywide boycott of all un-waffley restaurants. And then maybe I'll get arrested for vagrancy. 

At last weekend's Stone Arch Festival of the Arts in Minneapolis, I strolled through the Aster Cafe and got goosebumps. This place would be the perfect place to enjoy a morning waffle on the shores of the Mighty Mississippi. It's a charming little joint that's been serving coffee and snacks at the adorable St. Anthony Main for decades. I snapped a few photos, so that you can imagine yourself sitting there and sharing a waffle with me. 

C'mon, Aster Cafe. Don't make me bring my own waffles.

Simplifying the Process

Having been appropriately humbled by the apparent complexity of many sugar waffle recipes, my Guy and I decided to take a new approach: Find the most idiot-proof waffle recipe on the planet, and see if we could make it work. From there, we reasoned, we could tweak and refine our recipe into The One that would bring the joy of True Waffledom to the U.S.A.

A recipe on Cooks.com for "Easy Good Waffles" looked promising. It contained a very short list of simple components, required almost no kitchen skills, and sounded as if it had been named by a troglodyte. Optimism reigned as we gathered our ingredients.

With flour, baking powder, salt and sugar lined up on the counter, I began rummaging through the Guy's kitchen drawers for measuring cups and spoons. The cups were easy enough to find, but my Guy, being a guy, apparently had not used a measuring spoon in eons, and therefore couldn't tell me where I'd find a teaspoon. We combed every last cupboard and drawer, until finally he joyfully handed me a tablespoon. Fair enough, I thought. I could eyeball that amount. I grabbed a coffee spoon from the silverware drawer.

While my eight-year-old daughter dutifully stirred, I added our dry ingredients to a large mixing bowl, reciting the name of each aloud as I did. "...One tablespoon sugar...one-half teaspoon salt...a cup and three-quarters flour...three teaspoons baking powder..."

Eerie silence descended on the kitchen. My Guy had stopped moving, frozen into the smirky posture he only assumes when he knows he's right. "You do know, don't you, that there are three teaspoons in a tablespoon?" he said. 

Sheepishly, I checked the recipe, which indeed had called for three teaspoons of baking powder and one tablespoon of sugar. I became concerned that the directions truly had been written by a cave dweller, and that my interpretation of the recipe was not much more evolved. No matter, I decided. This couldn't be worse than our last attempt.

My daughter added milk, egg yolks and melted butter, and I finished our batter by folding in two stiffly beaten egg whites. It was a batter, to be sure, and not the elegant log of dough we'd seen months before in Bruges. But it was a good  batter. We were making progress.

The Guy assumed the role of lead baker once again, only this time, upon opening the waffle iron, we were greeted with a glorious surprise--palatable waffles. My heart pounded in my chest. It may not be a Liege waffle, but it was a waffle, and that was something. My faith was born anew. 

We served the kids first, and when they didn't die, we decided we'd taste the fruits of our second-ever waffle project, too. To our complete surprise, they were pretty tasty! A far cry from the delicious, dessert-like sugar waffle that fostered our waffle obsession, to be sure, but a heck-of-a-lot better than your average Perkins fare. 

Besides, perfection wasn't the goal on this go-round. I'd set out to make a waffle without destroying it, and I'd succeeded. I doused my waffle in Smucker's Strawberry Syrup and Ready Whip, and reveled in my perceived glory. 

Not the Guy. Ever the critical thinker, he dove into a highly intellectual treatise on the merits and shortcomings of The Waffle 2.0. "I give props to the maker," he said, meaning the waffle maker and not the beautiful woman who'd made the batter. "The texture is lovely. They're gorgeous. They lack just slightly in sweetness." 

He named the waffle iron Esther, and embarked on a side-by-side comparison of shot glasses filled with baking powder to reveal

that my three "teaspoons" of baking powder were, in fact, more generous than the tablespoon for which the recipe should have called. I hated to admit he was right, but I had to be honest--the waffles were a B+, if you were looking for a breakfast waffle. A little more sugar, a little less baking powder, and we'd have created a solid A.

The Verdict: Moderately delicious breakfast waffle. Not much of a sugar waffle. Best served with cheap breakfast-food toppings. 

Next time: More sugar, less baking powder. Possibly more butter. 

Waffle Lover Report

Apparently, there are at least a few other Liege waffle fanatics in the United States. I just discovered a Denver-based company called the Liege Waffle Factory, which claims to make authentic sugar waffles that are shipped frozen and can be heated in the microwave in just 60 seconds. I'm skeptical, but curious.

They appear to be an adorable company (they even have a blog!), and I'm hatching a plan to befriend them on the grounds that they clearly know something I don't. Besides, Denver is much closer to my stomping grounds than Belgium, making it conceivable that I could convince them to teach me at least some of their secrets.

I'd order some today, but the it looks like their minimum order is 60 waffles, and they require next-day shipping because they're frozen. The total for sweet waffley bliss? A whopping $217.99, with shipping. Yeowch.

Even the waffle-obsessed have limits. At least for the time being.