Say It With Waffles

Fun Fact #1: I own a heart-shaped waffle iron.

Fun Fact #2: The aforementioned waffle iron does not have an ON switch. You just plug it in and it starts getting hot pretty much instantly. 

Fun Fact #3: I didn't know this.

I'm sure you know what happened next.

But, you know what they say, dear reader?

LOVE HURTS.

And I have the burn to prove it.

HOWEVER. All worth it in the pursuit of a Valentine's Treat for Mum and for my Lovely Librarians that wasn't chocolate, overly sweet, or in any way candy heart / teddy bear / red rose related. Because I've been seeing those Russel Stover heart shaped chocolate boxes in the grocery store since December, and enough is enough already.

Personally, I'll take these over a "Romantic Truffle Selection" any day.

But how to show my love in a way that wasn't cluttered with commercial detritus and cheap, mainstream trappings?

Well. Waffles seemed like as good a place as any to start.

This is my Dad's waffle iron. There were many, many happy mornings where I would drown these suckers in maple syrup and eat until I couldn't move (which, my stomach capacity at 10, a disturbing amount of waffles). I actually preferred these to Swedish pancakes, if truth be told. And since we're putting it all out there, this was viewed as a moral failing on my part, and generated a significant amount of mockery and scorn.

I'm just saying, my childhood was a judgmental minefield.

My grandmother made Belgian waffles, the kind with egg-whites folded in. THAT, incidentally, is how I learned to fold egg-whites into liquid batter with a spatula (you learn pretty damn fast when your grandmother smacks the back of your wrist every time you stir instead of fold). I also learned that although whipped egg-whites LOOK like whipped cream, they are NOT WHIPPED CREAM. And if you lick enough raw egg-whites off the beaters, you will get sick.

Trial and error, dear reader, trial and error.



Because a Belgian waffle iron is deeper than a heart shaped one, I didn't so much drown them in syrup as fill every hole to the brim with an equal-to-the-millimetre amount.*

*OCD rears its waffle-eating head

I have to say, the Hearts were always my favourite. The Belgians were great, but in my memory they were always a bit too dry (and under a gallon of syrup, that's saying something). I think that the Heart's lack of egg-whites gave them that density, that richness, that I loved. Yes, they were thinner, but the taste was so much more intense, the bite so much more satisfying. They were dense without being heavy, rich and buttery without being overwhelming; they were fluffy without being powdery, light without being insubstantial.

It was the sweet spot of waffles for me, is what I'm trying to say. Plus, DUH, they were shaped like hearts. Did I NEED another reason?


I decided that rather than something chocolate, or sugar and pink icing based, I would do something slightly unusual that still conveyed that I LOVE YOU message. Also something that could be breakfast OR an afternoon snack OR a dessert.

Equal-opportunity-affection-based-baked-goods. That was the goal here.

VALENTINE'S WAFFLES FOR THOSE I LOVE

Of course I used my Dad's recipe. Origins unknown, written in his good-little-Catholic-school-boy-cursive on a 5x7 index card spattered with batter in the wooden box on the counter. Right between Swedish Pancakes and, for some strange reason, Lobster Thermidor. I'm not throwing it one out to the interwebs ether (ha, for the 12 people that might see it, right?) so if you want it, hit me up. Certain things should be shared in private, I feel.

Rest assured, it's your classic waffle.

A lot of butter. 

Only a tablespoon of sugar, though.
We Yankees don't want to get TOO wild and crazy at breakfast. 

The one addition I made this time, in an effort to make them more "snack" than "breakfast food" was this:

I knew I was going to dust them with powdered sugar, and my idea was that a small kick of almond would go along nicely, and also pave the way towards widening their "time of day enjoyment window". (Mum seems to approve, LL's, you will have to let me know.) It's always a crap shoot with these extract experimentations, though, because you either don't add enough and there's no discernible difference and you're all BUT I ADDED EXTRACT or you don't realise how strong it is and you take a bite and you're all WELL NOW MY HEAD HAS TURNED INTO AN ALMOND THANKS FOR THAT.

So. Slightly nervous going in.

Deep breath, Beetle. 

After realising a bit too late that the waffle iron had been heating up for 15 minutes BEFORE I grabbed it with my bare hands, flinging it across the counter screaming, terrifying the cats, cleaning up, applying bandaids and ice, and aplogising to the cats for a good half hour, I was, once again, ready to go.

Once they cooled down and crisped up, I broke them into singles, figuring I was probably the only person who could house SEVERAL SHEETS OF HEARTS in one sitting, and that "one waffle" probably, in normal people speak, meant, um, one waffle. (Personally, I don't get it, but I bow to convention.)

I left the batter edges and side-drips on, because I liked how they looked that way. You know, like snowflakes. EVERY WAFFLE IS UNIQUE.

Mum had hers for dessert AND breakfast, spread with first Raspberry jam (for dessert) and then with Lingonberry jam (for breakfast). She also came home later in the day and went OMG IT SMELLS LIKE WAFFLES! Which was happy. 

For the LL's, I took a topping cue from the STORM FORCE BLIZZARD that was happening outside: 

And I can report that Mum is on her way with these right now. So I hope they find you filled to the brim with love and cuddles for your, um, library patrons . . . ? No. Um . . . me . . . ? YES THAT'S BETTER. 

I mean, filled to the brim, but with room enough for waffles. 

There should always be room for waffles.

Partying Russian Style

I know I said Saturday for a post. But. Clearly. THINGS.

Things like discovering that Biathalon is THE BEST SPORT EVER and that I am completely and utterly in awe of the people that do it. I'm actually surprised the Norwegian army hasn't taken over the entire world considering the fact that if you can do the Biathalon, you can pretty much do anything. For real, you guys, we should all be speaking Norwegian right now.

Things like realising that no matter how hard core and Yankee I think I am getting, I can be shamed into a fetal ball of Paris Hilton fluffiness by the mere sight of the Norwegian women cross country skiiers. They. Are. So. Amazing. And. I. Am. A. Giant. Marshmallow.

Things like explaining the scoring system for the Team Figure Skating competition to Mum for probably longer than I should admit to in a public forum, and when she finally got it, and said "Sorry, I bet your dinner is cold now do you want to heat it up" responding oh-so-maturely "ARE YOU KIDDING ME IT'S TIME FOR BREAKFAST ALREADY."

Things like watching dear Vladimir creepily congratulate the Russian figure skaters wearing a lecherous red parka, and hoping that all of them survive to the end of the games.

HOWEVER.

There are updates to be shared of a culinary nature. And I may not be able to shoot an air rifle from a prone and/or standing position, but I CAN load pictures. So there.

OLYMPICS PARTY POST-PARTY SLIDESHOW AND DISCUSSION POINTS

menu

Black Bread

Blue Cheese and Fig Jam Thumbprints

---

Rosemary Roasted Potatoes

Onion and Mushroom Pie with Mustard Crust

Vegetarian Swedish Meatballs with

Cranberry and Red Cabbage Slaw

Whole Wheat Penne with Kale, Olives, and Goat Cheese

---

Buttermilk Olympics Cake w Vanilla Buttercream

small beetle note: I tried to be good about taking photos, but it got a little nuts just as everyone was arriving and I might have missed a few presentation / table placement shots. I'M SORRY. For the record, if I'm not taking pictures, nobody is. I can't give the task to Mum because she still looks through the manual viewfinder like it's an old Nikon and still hits the shutter with enough force to smack the frame out of focus.

TBH, I think the cat could do it better, perhaps next time I will ask her.

MOVING ON

BLACK BREAD

BEETLE NOTES: Ain't nuthin' wrong with this one. Tried and tested, hands down the best black bread recipe I own. The original calls for 2 cups of grated carrot, but I've found better consistency with a can of pumpkin puree mixed with half a cup of either oatbran or wheatgerm, to make up for the texture. The bread is dense, rich, and sweet without being dessert-y sweet. Sweet in that "good bread" sense of the word if that makes sense.

As you can see, I made one loaf long and skinny, baguette like, for party purposes, and served it with butter.

And if the bread is good, butter really is all you need.

That's gotta be a proverb somewhere in the world.

BLUE CHEESE AND FIG THUMBPRINTS

BEETLE NOTES AND PHOTOGRAPHIC APOLOGIES: I made these at Thanksgiving and they went down a treat. Olympics party proved no exception. I don't have any pictures of them wearing their oven-warmed jam hats, but if you click through to the Thanksgiving post you can see them there. Anyway, they're easy, tasty, a nice departure from classic party nibbles, and a Mum favourite. Win win and win.

Oh also. The good thing about these is that if you ARE serving them for a party, you can make them a few days ahead of time and keep them in Tupperware, then do the whole jam / oven thing a few minutes before guest arrival. So they free up cooking time in the days leading up. I mean, if you are the kind of person who makes colour-coded cooking calendars and shopping lists. I find it helpful.

ROSEMARY ROASTED POTATOES

BEETLE NOTES: I mean. Yeah.

MUSHROOM AND ONION PIE WITH MUSTARD CRUST

This is a Nigella recipe. As such, it's warming, delicious, and you want to eat ALL of it in one sitting. She's good like that. The original called for only onions, but I had mushrooms kicking around, and I felt like it couldn't hurt.

You cook the onions (and mushrooms if you've got 'em) in butter for about 20 minutes until everything is gorgeous and brown and soft, then dump them in the bottom of a pie plate.

The crust is a scone dough of parmesan cheese and mustard, and you squish it down on top of the onion mixture before baking. (and obviously you add more cheese before because why wouldn't you see below)

And when it comes out it's all brown and yummy and bubbly.

The scary part is inverting it out onto a serving dish. Not the actual inversion, that part is actually really fun. No, the scary part is feeling it slide ooooohhhhh soooo sllooowwwwllllyyyyy out onto the serving platter and praying to the god you really don't think has ANY control over ANYTHING that it won't just disintegrate and cover your counter with onions and mushrooms and butter and cheese and mustard. 

 But you know what? IT WORKED.

Final Beetle Note: BOOYAH.

SWEDISH MEATBALLS CRANBERRY AND RED CABBAGE SLAW

1. Vegetarian Swedish Meatballs are REALLY YUMMY.
2. Yes, it is possible to have a vegetarian meatball.
3. No, a vegetarian meatball is not an oxymoron.
4. Yes, I am tired of explaining this to people. IT'S NOT AN OXYMORON IT'S A SIGN OF THE TIMES. GET ON THE SOY PROTEIN TRAIN ALREADY IT'S A DELICIOUS TRAIN AND IT'S LEAVING THE STATION.
5. I don't have good photos of these. It was too dark by the time I finished frying them. And then I ate them all. Sorry.

On the other hand . . .

Newly discovered favourite cooking vegetable.

This started because the last three times I've made veggie meatballs I've served them with cranberry sauce (as is appropriate in Scandinavia and should be everywhere, really). However, once Thanksgiving is over, if you live in rural Massachusetts, unless you have direct access to a cranberry bog, fresh cranberries are not going to happen. BELIEVE ME. I'VE TRIED. 

So I needed a cranberry-ish thing that would be tart and sweet and warm and a good accompaniment. And Deb Henry came through (for reals. Roast Figs Sugar Snow is my new fav cookbook of the moment) with this glorious thing. I don't know if it's a relish or a slaw or a compote or something else. But it made its debut in the top 10 of the "to be made again ASAP when we don't have guests so I can eat it all myself" list so there you have it.

Basically you cook onions and red cabbage in butter, add dried cranberries, balsamic vinegar, and allspice, and let the whole thing simmer on the back burner for about half an hour until it's soft and tart and glorious.

I also added apple cider, incidentally. It seemed appropriate. For serving, I put the cabbage in a big round platter and piled the meatballs on top of it. I SWEAR I took a picture but apparently my camera ate them all too.

WHOLE WHEAT PENNE WITH KALE, OLIVES, AND GOAT CHEESE

So I needed something green. With a carb base. That wasn't "northern hemisphere cooking" based. And everyone loves kale. AM I RIGHT, HIPSTERS OF THE WORLD?

I cooked the kale in olive oil and lemon juice, then added the goat cheese and olives and let it get all melty and gooey. 

It was a good balance to the very earthy and brown rest of the dishes, but still hearty and warming and filling.

And, as Mum says, very good for breakfast.

But where are my manners, dear reader? WHERE ARE THEY?

WHAT ABOUT THE CAKE?

oh yes.

After semi-party-demolition and the partial-eating of SOCHI.

You can sort of see the Olympic rings I did in icing. Or tried to do. "Tried" being the operative word.

This cake. THIS CAKE. Again, Nigella is to thank. This is her Buttermilk Layer Cake recipe, and I gotta say it's the Buttermilk that makes all the difference (which should also be a proverb somewhere).

I already showed you how fluffy these things were out of the oven. 

I think it was a combination of Buttermilk and the fact that I let the mixer go on high for a long, long, long time before I poured the batter out. But whatever the deciding factor, the fluff factor on this cake is astronomical. It rises insanely high, yet stays incredibly dense at the same time.

And a thick layer of Vanilla Buttercream doesn't hurt the situation, either.

Or two thick layers for that matter.

The two layers rose high enough they actually spilled over the edges of the baking pans. Which made frosting slightly more difficult (though still really, really, really fun). And the double layer cake is . . . just . . . A MONSTER. A DELICIOUS, BLUE AND WHITE, SUGAR-LETTERED-OLYMPIC-RINGED-MONSTER.

So, dear reader, the party was delightful. Lots of food, lots of yelling Putin-based insults at the screen, lots of laughter and happy times.

And I can now spend the next four days eating leftovers and watching Norwegians on skis with air rifles on their backs plan world domination.

I for one will gladly surrender.

Cooking for Vladimir

So. Olympics.

As I was saying to a friend of mine yesterday, I am conflicted about Sochi. On the one hand, I genuinely love a good Olympics. I love the cheese, the celebrations, the watching people do things that I will never in a million years be able to do. I love the uniforms and the sparkles. I love the fact that they are ALWAYS ON TELEVISION so that no matter what I am doing I can tune in and watch people do insane things.

On the other hand, this Olympics is THE WORST. Or, more specifically, Vladimir Putin is the worst. I mean Bond villain worst. Except that the Bond villain always gets his comeuppance in the end, and no matter how many things he blows up or how many people he kills, you can kind of shrug it off because you know it's not real. But in Putin's case, not only is it INCREDIBLY REAL AND HARMING ACTUAL PEOPLE AND THINGS, there is no evidence to state that he is anywhere NEAR getting his comeuppance any time soon.

There's been a lot of talk about corruption, gay rights, and general arresting and murdering of pretty much anyone Putin or his friends feel like. What's significant is that this is STATUS QUO for Russia, it's just that because everyone is paying attention all of a sudden things are getting vaguely reported (except for local news which insists on covering the persimmons you can get in the Sochi farmers market I am not making that up). And because of the scale of the Olympics, the scale of the corruption is proportionally much larger and more public.

The Anti-Corruption Foundation has put up a website in conjunction with the investigation done by Alexey Navalny into who contracted and subcontracted what, and just how much natural environment has and is going to be destroyed. FOR REAL GO AND LOOK. THE LINK IS HERE. And also check out the breakdown that BuzzFeed did into some of the most blatant. They're not even TRYING to hide it anymore, they're just openly and happily making themselves richer at the expense of everyone and everything because nobody is around to stop them. And if they are, they end up beaten, dead, or in a gulag, a la Pussy Riot. Or Alexey Navalny himself. 

Basically, all roads don't just lead to Sochi, all roads lead to Putin. 

That being said. I am going to watch the Olympics. But I am going to watch with a HUGE grain of salt. I am going to watch cynically, at times sadly, and as pragmatically as possible. Will I enjoy it? Absolutely. But I will try to keep all the above in mind, and hope very much that maybe, maybe, the iota of attention that the global media is all of a sudden paying to Putin and his cronies has some positive impact on the lives of Russian citizens. We can hope, dear reader, we can hope. 

BUT IN THE MEANTIME. 

THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO DURING THE OLYMPICS

• Watching Vladimir Putin naked horseback ride through the stadium during the Opening Ceremonies
• Cheering for Finland for a change because they are woefully underrepresented in summer sports but when it comes time for anything on skis, anything on a sled, or anything that involves freezing your bum off in a lycra bodysuit emblazoned with the ol' white and blue, they are all LET'S GO. 
• NB: They still almost never win anything, but it's the seeing them and cheering that counts
• Watching Vladimir Putin naked-wrestle a polar bear during the Opening Ceremonies
• Watching Meryl Davis and Charlie White KICK EVERYONE ELSE'S BACKSIDES during the Ice Dancing. 
• Just watching Meryl Davis and Charlie White PERIOD because holy god they are awesome and pretty and I love their sparkly outfits and precise and fluid choreography.
• Watching Vladimir Putin naked-hunt a reindeer with a crossbow during the Opening Ceremonies.
• Ski jumping, Cross Country Skiing, Nordic Combined, the amazingly insane Biathalon (thank you, Norwegian military!), the aforementioned Ice Dancing, and Freestyle Skiing.
• Watching Vladimir Putin do a naked Skeleton run during the Opening Ceremonies 

No full post this week because I am OLYMPIC PARTY PREPPING.

Incidentally, with a Forever Lazy on and bright orange washing-up gloves, I look like a North Korean nuclear inspector. OH WAIT EXCEPT THEY DON'T HAVE THOSE BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS HOW SILLY OF ME.

Sorry, sorry. ON TO THE FOOD. SUCH AS IT STANDS.

As Grace Kelly would say in Rear Window:

Preview of Coming Attractions . . . 

BLUE CHEESE CRACKERS (FIG JAM TO BE ADDED JUST BEFORE SERVING, OBVI)

BLACK BREAD 

Because it wouldn't be RUSSIA without black bread would it? 

BUTTERMILK LAYER CAKE (frosting TBD, along with LOTS OF DECORATIONS including sugar letters, frosting, and sparkles JUST WAIT YOU GUYS JUST WAIT)

And, of course

ROSEMARY ROASTED POTATOES

Because if I have to watch dear Vladimir do even ONE of the aforementioned things during Opening Ceremonies (and you know it's going to happen) I better be getting potatoes out of the deal.

So, dear reader. COOKING CONTINUES. There will be Buttercream Frosting, Onion Pie, Meatballs, and Cranberry Relish. Probably a full post on Saturday, if I can tear myself away from Ice Dancing and Cross Country Skiing.

Incidentally, I am now dating THE ENTIRE Finnish hockey team. Just for the record. My boyfriend Chris Hemsworth understands, he's cool like that.

UNTIL THEN, DEAR READER, UNTIL THEN.