I enjoyed a delicious, freshly made chocolate chip waffle during a hotel stay for our family reunion a few weeks ago. That inspired me to make waffles for breakfast on the Fourth of July. I had the day off, so I didn’t have to rush.
Instead of using a chocolate chip and syrup garnish, I chopped up fresh strawberries and bananas, then thawed out blueberries. Although that fruity mix was delicious, I should have cut up the fruit before making the waffles.
Both Mom and my sister had told me that our waffle maker worked just like the one at the hotel. I took that too literally, thinking that each waffle would take about 2 1/2 minutes and at the end, the machine would beep.
So, as I decapped and quartered strawberries, I smelled a burning waffle. Bad enough that I’d overpoured the batter, which self-corrected by dripping out of the apparatus within seconds. Although it was a little overcooked, I slathered it with butter as if it was perfect. Fortunately, the smell of bacon masked any overdone waffle smell.
Some people read tea leaves, but here are some plate readings. First up, Dad’s plate:
I’m the only one who doesn’t use paper plates. I used to when I first moved back, but then we were told that those plates weren’t recyclable. Since I make breakfast for dad most mornings, we had our red, white and blueberry waffles on real plates. Dad gets a smaller portion than I do. For someone who sleeps most of the day, either in bed or in a chair, he doesn’t eat a lot. Breakfast tends to be his biggest meal of the day and his bird appetite kicks in throughout the day.
Not only do I get a serving slightly more than Dad, but with the addition of hotsauce.
Mom, who often boasts of not eating breakfast because she drinks a blender full of smoothie along with ginger tea, was easily convinced to make a plate. She scrambled two eggs, then warmed up a waffle. Since she saw that I’d microwaved the fruit with syrup and a pat of butter for 30 seconds, she did the same, with comparatively less syrup. Mom was so excited to dig in, she initially forgot the bacon. Granted, she’d had a piece while I was frying it up.
Then, my sister came over much earlier than normal. The magical draw of waffles. Despite all the better waffles stacked on top of my disastrous first waffle, that’s precisely the one my sister chose. She put a few pats of extra butter on one half, folded it over, and warmed it up while she scrambled some eggs. Although she claimed to not want any blueberries, some snuck in. Then, she topped her plate off with a smile pile of bacon. (I’d meant to type “small pile,” but I LOVE this typo!)
This was the greatest celebration start to the Fourth of July. The best part: didn’t see a single firework!