Recipe:


  • 2 cups all-purpose flour 
  • ¼ cup white or brown sugar
  • 4 teaspoons baking powder
  • ¼ teaspoon baking soda
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 2 ¼ cups milk
  • ½ cup butter
  • 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 1 large egg

Prep Time:  10 mins 

Cooking Time: 30 mins

Total Time: 40 mins

Serves: 
If lucky - 8 large waffles and 8 mini waffles

If unlucky - 4 vaguely waffle shaped desserts, 10 small waffles, 7 honeycomb shaped crusts with batter clinging on for dear life

Instructions: 

Step 1: 
Melt the butter. Mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon together in a large bowl until combined. Make a well in the middle and add the milk, melted butter, vanilla extract, and egg.

Step 2: 
Lightly mix all components, then fold the batter until it is smooth. The batter is supposed to be thick, but you can add more milk to thin it. 

Step 3: 
Plug in and turn on the waffle makers. You’ll know they’re at the right temperature when the red lights turn on. Open the waffle makers, spread a light coat of avocado oil on each cooking surface, then scoop ¼ cup of batter into each one. Set a plate aside to put your finished waffles, you know they are done when they start to turn gold and you hear hissing. Repeat until there is no batter left.

Step 4:
Serve with fruit, maple syrup, nutella, whatever! Just enjoy the fruits of your labour and be happy with the fact that now that you’ve made breakfast, someone else has to do the dishes.

Batter and Ash 

It was a day like many spent before Christmas Break ended -- woken up at four in the morning by nothing in particular. You jolt awake in a cold sweat: school is starting soon. This means that soon you won’t have any time to do anything non-school related again. Then you remembered that last year on Christmas Break you made pancakes. 

You prepped the ingredients under nothing but the stove light, the shadows long and reaching, casting a soft blanket over every edge and colour in the house, making the place feel otherworldly. You added twice the usual amount of butter, just as your father always did. He taught you how to make these when you were twelve, except he​ had work in the mornings, so more often than not, you ended up having pancakes for dinner. Him teaching you was just a return to the natural order of things. Pancakes were to be had in the morning.

Probably not four o’clock in the morning, but alas.

You scan the haphazard stacks of pots and pans before coming across two things that you knew were evil, but looked like saviours in the blueing light. 

The family waffle makers, large and small, their domed mouths closed, their plugs wrapped around their legs in a non-threatening manner. It was then that you decided that your family would have waffles instead. 

You had no experience with removing waffles from waffle makers, so you used the pancake method. The waffle makers did not like the pancake  treatment they were receiving, crusted pieces of batter sticking to the open maw of the large waffle maker like mould or moss. You start using your spatula to pry the batter free before it burns to a charred cracker. You opened it, your heart sinking as you saw that the waffle fused to the bottom. You frantically pull the plug and try to dislodge the pieces with your hands, neglecting to check on the small waffle maker as it cooks its own crusts. 

You munch on the crust in defeat and check the time. It’s five thirty. You decide you’ve done enough for the day. 



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