Filling a Square Hole

I had house guests. so, for the first time in months, I hauled out my mother’s old waffle iron, a General Electric model that is 30, possibly 40, years old. The grids were almost black with baked-on oil and Pam--perfectly seasoned.

I shined the now-dull and pitted stainless steel exterior, daubed vegetable oil on its grids and said a brief prayer to the kitchen god of nonstick cooking surfaces. Once plugged in, the machine’s little orange eye glowed with dim, unimpressive intelligence, signaling--by going out!--only that the iron was ready for use. (A far more useful signal, of course, would be one indicating when a waffle was perfectly cooked, but such a feat was far, far beyond the capability of this machine--and many cooks.)

While the machine heated up, I prepared the batter. Over the years, I’ve settled on buttermilk waffles, using the recipe in James Beard’s “American Cookery.” The buttermilk adds loft and tang; the whipped egg whites give the waffles even more volume; and the generous amount of butter discourages sticking.

Cooking waffles one at a time is a great way to stretch out breakfast, providing nobody is starving or has severe deprivation issues. Of course, waffles can be made ahead and stored in a warm oven, but they really are best eaten right off the grids.

My guests and I each started off with a quarter section of a waffle while the next one cooked. It took 10 seconds to devour our meager portions, which left about four minutes and 50 seconds of dead air. Coffee was replenished, juice sipped. Conversation slowed until everybody was just looking at the iron and then up at me--their eyes increasingly hungry. Inevitably, one person decided that she could operate the iron more efficiently than I. “Isn’t the light off? Doesn’t that mean they’re done?”

I tried to open the iron, encountering a familiar resistance. If I forced it, we’d surely face a yawning maw of half-cooked batter--and a prodigious scraping job. “They’re done when they stop steaming,” I said with as much patience I could muster. “And when the iron opens easily.”

Waffles are truly worth the wait: They’re so delicious and odd, so pleasingly mathematical in form, their signature grid found nowhere in the shambles of visible nature. I have always loved them with just a lot of butter and syrup, or strawberries. But in the winter, I like to stew fresh cranberries quickly in orange juice for a hot topping (cooled, they become jam-like in consistency). The berries’ tartness and jewel-like looks are irresistible. Here is one case where the proverbial round berry sits snugly in the square hole.

My waffles emerged with a stubborn slowness--but at least they didn’t stick. The first three disappeared in a snap; only with the fourth did I see a fading expectancy, even a creeping contentedness. The seventh waffle had only the most grudging takers. My previously ravenous, impatient and thankless guests were all buttered up, as sweet as could be.

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WAFFLES

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sugar

3 eggs, separated

2-2 1/2 cups buttermilk

6 tablespoons melted butter or bacon fat

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Sift flour with baking powder, salt and sugar. In mixing bowl, beat egg yolks. Add milk and melted butter. Stir in flour mixture until just moistened. Do not beat. Beat egg whites until they hold firm peaks, then fold gently into batter. Immediately spoon into preheated waffle iron. Batter will spread considerably, so test by putting in rounded tablespoon of batter. (A running-over waffle-iron will create a good deal of smoke and is hard to clean.) Bake until steam stops coming from around edge of iron, usually about 5 minutes. Waffle should be nicely browned.

CRANBERRY TOPPING

1 1/2 cups fresh orange juice

1 teaspoon orange zest

1 cup sugar

1 12-ounce bag fresh cranberries

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Combine orange juice, zest and sugar in saucepan and bring to boil. Add cranberries, return to boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Serve hot over waffles.

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food stylist: Norman Stewart