About every seventh Sunday I engage in the simple and well-practiced ritual of making waffles.  While there are no longer any husbands or children to be found in my home clamoring for a Big Sunday Morning Breakfast, it is for me that I create this sense of welcome in my own home.  A much needed reprieve from the slaying of dragons during a week of deadlines, trainings, meetings, planning and cheerleading at the different offices I drive to throughout the Las Vegas Valley. 

     On these special Sundays at 7:00 a.m.’ish you will find me standing in the kitchen embarking upon the creation of yet another unique adaptation of your basic waffle.  A few have turned out badly.   The texture funny, the weight not quite right, too crumbly or too spongy, but most have been amazing. 

     Of course I have perfected your basic buttermilk, blueberry, and chocolate chip, but I have also come up with a plethora of these “Twelfth Night” galettes.  Poppy seed, a rather savory waffle but still, I douse it with syrup, was one of my first, outside-the-box  experiments.   A couple of months ago I was inspired by a friend who loves carrot cake and created my own version of a rapier carrot cake waffle.  My banana-coconut & pineapple waffle makes a terrific snack.  No butter or syrup needed according to my grandson.   This past holiday season, having too much pumpkin puree left over, I decided pumpkin waffles would make good use of this canned gourd.  Now too expensive to just toss in the trash, I combined the puree with cinnamon, maple syrup and crushed bits of walnuts.  Crispy and nutty, these waffles were both rich and savory.  I top them with a combination of applesauce and crème fraiche.  Sublime. 

     But my most favorite waffle concoction is my lemon waffle.  This waffle is light, fluffy and so well balanced in how the citrusy-acidic lemon dances with the sweetness of the sugar, while the delicate almond extract orchestrates their waltz.  They are finished with dollops of home-made lemon curd and blueberry compote.  I’m not kidding; these waffles are so damn good I once ate two!

     I always double the recipe so I have at least a month’s worth of Sunday morning breakfasts to enjoy.  On occasion my waffles are shared with guests should there be any, but that is rare.  Usually it is only me with plate in hand and cup of French-pressed coffee, sitting out on my back patio, sometimes at my long wooden farm table, most often crossed-legged on the bedroom floor with doors open to a more private patio.  I quietly munch away, mindfully savoring the flavor combinations while I ruminate on events of the past week, upcoming tasks, my writing or sometimes, nothing at all.  When I’ve finished eating my breakfast I return to the kitchen to clean up what little is left in the sink or on the counter, postprandial and ready for whatever the Universe presents me with in the days ahead. 

  Give yourself the gift of quiet pleasure a home-made waffle can bring.