Zebra Cake Turned Biscotti

I seem to fall into a pattern; one that I try to come to terms with, adjust to. It starts off with a quick job that drives me to run for an amount of time on what seems like the positive energy of this world compounded. Work happens in the midst of this; success comes in bursts. Later as it ends, I become harsher, a cracked heel. It is over and in some way, I too am over and worn out. I will sleep for days, read for hours, approach my kitchen out of necessity and watch food shows out of habit but no particular interest.  

A while later, I return after my hips have stretched and I have inhaled a large but untold number of biscuits, store-bought and homemade (not our home but another maybe mother or mother in law). Then when they are all gone I become biscuit-desperate, I make my own. Only then do I realize that I missed what I do. I missed my kitchen. I missed me.    

 Zebra Biscotti
(Adapted from BBC Food)

You'll need:
butter, to grease
4 large eggs
250 grams of granulated sugar
100 ml of milk
250 ml of sunflower oil
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
475 grams of self-raising flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
25 grams of cocoa powder

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Butter a 23 cm cake tin. Crack your eggs and pour your sugar into a large mixing bowl. Pour in the milk, oil and vanilla extract and mix with a handheld electric whisk for a minute. Add 175 grams of your self-raising flour and whisk again until smooth. 

In a separate bowl, pour half of your mixture. Whisk in 1/2 a teaspoon of baking powder and 175 grams of flour and set aside. In the other bowl (the first bowl), mix in the cocoa powder, 125 grams of flour and the other 1/2 teaspoon of baking powder. 

In your cake tin, spoon two tablespoons of plain cake mix into the center then spoon two tablespoons of the chocolate mixture in the center and on top of the plain cake mix. Continue to do this until both cake mixes have been used up. You'll end up with alternate rings of cake mix in the tin. 

Bake in your oven for 40 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Remove from the oven, turn the cake out onto a wire rack and cool. Once cool, have a slice then place the cake onto a chopping board. Cut the cake into thick straight slices and arrange the soft cake, one side down, onto a baking sheet. Bake for around 15 minutes in a 190 degree Celsius preheated oven until they reach a light golden color. Transfer the biscotti onto a wire rack and cool completely before storing in an airtight container. 

Jam Cakes & Wild Food

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

“What are those?” I asked, looking down at my sneakers, at the stains beneath them sprawled over the floor of my friend’s garage, free of cars and quietly enclosed behind the looming gates of their villa. “I can’t remember their name,” Jinan shrugged, “but we can eat them.”

Away from today’s trends of foraging for plants we can eat, I hesitated at the notion back in 1994. “Are you sure?” I said making way for the burgundy stains to show themselves, to reassure my insecure self that they were ingestible as she comforted me — 10-year-old to 10-year-old.

I, after all, belonged to the supermarket generation of expatriate Abu Dhabi — one that did not see fresh markets except on our trips back home to our respective countries. Things were delivered, clean; the entirety of it had to be deemed safe before reaching our homes.

Popping it into my mouth, street dust and all, I smiled as it burst and started collecting more of these little bumpy purple gems with my foraging friend. Rinsing them in tap water and setting them down on the floor, we surrounded the bowl, descending on it to consume the fruit forbidden for us to pick up off the ground in vacant garages.

For years, I thought that what I had secretly shared with Jinan were blackberries. Only later did I find out that these were mulberries, grown in our region, sprouting high up on smooth-stemmed trees, seemingly black in the shade, plump and sugary. Blackberries on the other hand are grown on thorny vines, round and fragile-skinned, more uniform and smaller. The fact is that most people cannot differentiate between them and these days, most kids at first instinct would tell you that the blackberry is a phone and not a fruit that stains the spot it falls on.

I remember watching the stain on my fingers spread, creeping further on my skin, leaving tangible memories for me to take home, for me to ask my mom what those beautiful berries are called.

“Toot,” she said and so I trailed through my childhood calling them “toot” unable to understand that we Egyptians call most berry-looking berries “toot” with the exception of strawberries, holding a special place in our hearts.

“Blackberry jam” I read today on the jar’s label — “toot shami” neatly typed in Arabic. We as a market, still remain confused, unable to determine the genus of the plants around us. “Toot shami” were in fact Levantine mulberries, juiced in the hotter months by the sellers on the streets of Damascus for passersby to quench their thirst. I do not know what to do about this problem of misidentifying ingredients except to single them out, to make things easier for the interested to know.

I am lucky to live in one of Cairo’s gated communities but find that not many actually use the sprawling gardens away from the children’s playground. While walking our dog, I’ve come across ingredients lying around, often growing out of control. I’ve spotted a fully grown button mushroom but did not eat it out of fear that I picked the wrong kind. Instead, I pulled it out of the ground, broke it in two and examined it; feeling the same anxious excitement I first did with that tall mulberry tree. What I have managed to pick regularly is fresh basil for my caprese salads and saucy pastas.

I can barely even call myself an amateur forager but I’m curious to know if our gardens are full of edible wild plants that might serve our weak fine dining scene well, changing the way Egyptians perceive their weeds. If René Redzepi of Noma, chef of the best restaurant in the world 2010, 2011 and 2012, can deep fry moss and roast lettuce to make juice, it’s about time someone steps up to the plate to dig up the resources around us that have long been neglected. I wait eagerly for the day one of our restaurants, old or new, serves something intelligent, inspiring and wholly ours. Until then, I’ll keep on searching for the discrepancies and point out the correct names and origins of our region’s food.

Mulberry-Strawberry Jam Cake

You’ll need
1 stick of unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cups of sugar
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups of cake flour, sifted
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
3 tablespoons of mulberry jam (Toot shami, often marked as blackberry jam)
3 tablespoons of strawberry jam
Icing sugar, to dust

Butter a round cake pan and dust with flour. Tap out the excess flour and discard. In medium-sized bowl, sift together the flour and the salt. Combine the cream and vanilla in a cup and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the butter and sugar and whisk at high speed until pale, light and fluffy. Begin to add the eggs one at a time making sure each one is incorporated before the addition of another. Beat hard for two minutes until it begins to slightly rise in volume. Add the flour in three batches alternating with the cream. Begin with the flour and end with the cream. Mix just until all is incorporated. Pour the thick batter into your greased pan and smooth out the top. Dust each dollop of jam with flour before adding it to the top of the cake. Once done, swirl the jams around with a knife. Pop into a cold oven at 175 degrees Celsius and bake for a little over an hour (approx. 65 minutes). Remove from the oven. Cool before turning out of the pan. Slice; dust with icing sugar and an extra spoon of jam of your choice. Serve.  

Monday's Rough Recipe: Date Stuffed Croissants

Rough Recipe: Every Monday, I offer up a recipe with no recipe. Use your imagination, tweak the ingredients to your liking, find yourself in your kitchen. Play.

These are flavor-bombs; sticky dates stuffed into a buttery croissant, coated with a crust of dark chocolate and topped with a temptress named Caramel. 

Croissants

Fresh, ripe dates

condensed milk

almond meal 

Dark chocolate - 70%

sea salt

Caramel sauce:

sugar

butter

vanilla

whipping cream 

  

Unboxing fluffy vanilla bean pancakes

As featured in The Daily News Egypt

There's a calming medicament in our home for the common cold; it paints in tinges of pink the cheeks of the runny-nosed, enlivens the spirits of the feverishly faint, and layers the room with the luxurious scent of true vanilla: pancakes.

Taking short minutes to measure and mix, the batter comes together with ease, making it undemanding of me— the temporarily ill as well. In between the dappled sunlight and fierce winds of this Cairene winter, pancakes keep me warm.

There are as many kinds of pancakes out there as there are people who make them, but in essence the term “pancake” stems from an age-old world history of quick bread, cooked on a heated pan, eaten at any time seen fit and with a rich array of spreads, toppings and fillings. Tagenias, the earliest form of pancakes recorded in 5th century BC texts, were mentioned by comic poets, Cratinus and Magnes. Made from wheat flour, honey, olive oil and curdled milk, these pancakes were prepared on frying pans and served hot for breakfast. Today, tagenias, or pancakes, have been adapted by cultures worldwide to suit the unique taste buds of their region.

Visiting Paris as a child did not strike the chord in me that seemed to reverberate with emotion in many adults. I only cared to visit small sidewalk cafés in hopes that I would skim the foam away from my mother’s frothy café au lait and onto my dessert spoon making it mine; I only cared to watch slender ladies and gangly men evenly spreading out their secret batter to cover even the utmost edges of their griddle, making crêpes as thin as the finest and most translucent of chiffon.

As I grew older, my love for quick hotcakes, thick and thin, grew and extended to my affection for waffles, equally tempting with deep holding pots for warm syrup; but special is a pancake that retains its original pancake flavor, unmoved by the slosh of syrup, the heavy hand of clingy jam.

Saddened by the countless soggy pancakes I've had in my life that insist on behaving in sponge-like fashion, soaking up the wetness to make way for moisture, it was evident that there was need for better measurements and higher expectations; a way to prove that pancakes were indeed capable of imparting both sweet and savory notes.

These fluffy rounds of simplicity that I’m sharing with you, made up of butter, flour, eggs and milk, develop a thin crust, a shield if you may, from the tragedy that is spongy pancakes. Lightly resting atop the salt-edged pancake, your topping keeps its personality and substance, merging only in your mouth. Watching with excitement as my batter’s bubbles rise and pop, luxuriating in the satisfying smell of black vanilla woven through, there is no better remedy for the self-pity that comes when being sick.

Fluffy Vanilla Bean Pancakes

You'll need:3 cups and 2 tablespoons of cake flour
½ heaped teaspoon of salt
3 tablespoons of baking powder
2 tablespoons of sugar
2½ cups of low-fat milk
3 medium eggs
Paste of 1 whole vanilla bean
2 teaspoons of vanilla extract
60 grams of butter
Additional butter for your topping
The toppings of your choice

In a large bowl, mix all your dry ingredients together. No need to sift. In a separate bowl, mix the milk, eggs and vanilla and whisk lightly to combine. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, stirring gently until combined. The batter will look and feel lumpy; this is the way it should be. Melt your 60 grams of butter and add it to the batter, gently mixing just until it comes together. Turn your heat on to medium and grease your large pan with butter or oil spray. Place on the heat and pour the batter in ¼ cup amounts. Cook on one side until set and colored. The batter will bubble on top; the bubbles will then begin to pop. Flip over carefully and cook for a minute before removing and stacking them, one on top of the other. When serving, add a bit of butter on your pancake stack then liberally add your chosen liquid topping before eating.

Note: You can choose to eliminate the vanilla bean and replace it with one additional teaspoon of vanilla extract.

Sugar Cookies for cookie-cutter women

As featured in The Daily News Egypt.

On the 10th day of the 10th month of 2010, I broke my finger and made an unexpected friend.

Irrespective of the pressing need to operate, it was not until a week later, after the kids were cured of their cold, that I would have to submit to surgery. This friend who stood by me and cooked fragrant Iranian food for our household while I was incapable, whose own little girl attended the same school as my stepchildren, would link some awful truths to the picture I drew of Iran in my mind.

She would come and keep me company, refilling my white bowl with steaming spoonfuls of Iranian biryani and my ears with the warm drawl of her accent. It was easier to sit on our balcony on the 21st floor. It was easier to stare into the distance when words failed you, the adult that you are, responsible for children and a home.

With a casual laugh and a toss of her hair, she talks about her country's past and my country's future, about the ways of oppression and alienation, forgiveness and trust and most importantly, the price of being a woman.

Stories of ladies beaten in the streets for wearing nail polish - “You cannot pray like this,” of ladies who could only show their fringe if it was brown - “Blond hair is for your husband at home,” of men who had enforced haircuts deemed acceptable by the government and a vast majority drinking themselves into oblivion to avoid the reality of day-to-day living.

As I cracked the delicate crust of sholeh-zard, a sweet saffron-infused almond rice dessert tinged with turmeric and aromatic spices, I felt blessed that we had not become what she was so bitterly describing.

Today as we approach the end of 2011, I do not feel as secure because I cannot yet determine what to expect and I wonder what I will have to adapt to or become. I fear that I might not be able to take part in a male-dominated kitchen because I am a woman or that an ultra-conservative man will one day come and accuse me of being a gastronomic pimp caught up in the dirty business of food pornography.

I cannot lie – Egyptians on all levels are still afraid; the barrier of fear has not been broken.

Scraping the bottom of my small cut-glass bowl, my friend's nonchalant attitude begins to shift. With a wavering voice, she remembers her daughter asking her, upon leaving Iran, why she wasn't wearing her “uniform” anymore, and how she noticed that people smiled in the street, questioning why they were happy – a detail most adults would not take note of.

This beautiful lady with a constant bounce in her step, a hair color that changed with the month and a broad and cheeky grin had left her country in search of a better life for her daughter. I cannot bear to see this happening to our daughters, to our children; it is unfortunate to say that I currently consider it a blessing that I do not have any of my own.

With Christmas literally around the corner, the only thing I truly pray for is a little more forgiveness in this country and a lot more compassion because Egypt is tired and needs a pick-me-up, a sugar rush, some good news, an attempt at positivity and a more united spirit.

Sugar Cookies:

1 ¾ cups of all-purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ cup unsalted butter
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Royal Icing:
1 large egg white
1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 cups powdered sugar, sifted

Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside. With an electric mix, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy (3-4 minutes). Add the vanilla and egg. Mix for a minute then add the flour mixture. Beat until it looks smooth. Split the dough in half. Wrap each half in cling film and refrigerate for an hour.

Preheat oven to 177 degrees Celsius. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll out one half of the dough to a 1 cm thickness on a floured surface. Make sure the dough does not stick by rotating while you roll. Cut out the cookies using a floured cookie cutter. Place the cookies on a baking sheet and chill for 15 minutes. Bake cookies for 10 minutes or until they begin to slightly brown around the edges. Cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes before moving them. Frost with royal icing. Royal icing must dry entirely before storing. This can take hours. Store cookies in an airtight container between layers of parchment paper.

Royal Icing:
Beat the egg whites with lemon juice with an electric mixer. Add the powdered sugar. Mix on low until smooth. Increase speed to medium and beat for 7-10 minutes until stiff and shiny. Royal icing has to be used or covered immediately so as not to harden. Split into different bowls if you wish to color it. Put the icing in a piping bag with a plain tip. Pipe a border around the cookie. This recipe is to create the hard border before “flooding” the cookie. To flood the cookie, add teaspoon by teaspoon of water to the remaining icing until it reaches a thinner consistency to fill the cookie border. Remember to allow the border to dry before flooding then rest it until it dries completely before storing.

Butternut Squash Brulée: Malaysian winter?

You can find my serious voice for this recipe at The Daily News Egypt.

Dear Butternut Squash,

I'm sorry I never bothered making you before. I know, I know. I've tried out quite a variety of things in the short time I've been cooking but you, I never bothered to pay attention to you. You see, before I dealt with you, I thought you were just a pumpkin. A kind of long pumpkin that couldn't really be any more interesting than a regular pumpkin. Shocking really. Thinking about it. I'm not to be blamed. There's no winter in Malaysia so we're not really looking for winter squash now, are we? And you're a winter squash, baby. I'm so horribly sorry. I know this hurts. See, I thought your skin was a lot thicker than what it actually turned out to be. I can peel off your layers a lot easier than I thought. You're such a fragile, delicate thing when you're scorched but sometimes, Butternut, that's the way some souls should be dealt with and you should accept that. So now that I've used you, I hope you're happy. I'm not sure how often I'll call but I'll give you a call again sometime soon. I hope you'll be waiting by the phone. 

Yours until you enter my body,

User Not Abuser
P.S. I'd like to thank my stepkids for being my hand models on occasion. Butterflies love you and so do I.

Butternut Squash Brulée

You'll need:

1 cup of butternut squash purée (I roasted a 1 kg one and pureed it. You'll need half of that.)

3 large egg yolks 

1/2 cup of brown sugar

1/2 cup of hot heavy cream left to cool

1 full teaspoon of cinnamon

1/2 a teaspoon of allspice

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

 A small pinch of salt

1 tablespoon of sugar, per ramekin

Preheat your oven to 175 degrees Celsius. In a bowl, combine the egg yolks and the brown sugar and whisk until you get a nice deep color and a relatively smooth consistency. This took me around a 1.5-2 minutes. Pour in the cream slowly while whisking continuously. Blend in the vanilla, cinnamon and all spice until all is combined. Add the butternut squash and stir until it all comes together. Divide the mixture between 6 ramekins. Place the ramekins in a roasting dish and pour water in until it reaches halfway. Make sure you don't get water into your ramekins. Bake for 30 minutes. It should be set but should tremble a little in the center. The jiggle shouldn't be liquidy. You're looking for a relatively firm jiggle. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours and up to 3 days. When you're ready to serve, sprinkle a layer of sugar. Make sure it's spread evenly. You can either use a propane torch to caramelize the top or you could place it under a hot grill for up to 5 minutes at the most. Make sure to watch it carefully. Allow it to rest for a few minutes and serve.   

Then you tap on it and make up a song before you crack it. 

Chocolate Cake better known as: "Finished Already"

We are split into 2 camps in this house. The chocolate camp and the vanilla camp. Lately, the chocolate camp has been complaining of unjust treatment. The chocolate camp claims that the vanilla camp isn't doing its part to make chocolate fit in. It's claiming that we're hoarding all things vanilla and not stocking up on anything chocolate. "What if there's a chocolate surplus in the world and people need a recipe?" they ask. "What if you're the only one whose blog doesn't have much chocolate in it?" they ask. They play on guilt. They play with me and I take it. Why? Because I secretly like chocolate too. Just don't tell them or we won't be 2 camps anymore. 

You'll need:
(Adapted from Smitten Kitchen)
1 stick of unsalted butter, softened
1 cup of packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup of granulated sugar
1 large egg + 1 egg yolk, at room temperature
1/2 cup of low-fat yoghurt
1/2 cup of milk
1.5 teaspoons of vanilla extract
1.5 cups of all-purpose flour
3/4 cups of cocoa powder (If you're using Dutch processed, keep the recipe as is. If not, eliminate the baking powder and up the baking soda to 1/2 a teaspoon.)
1/4 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 teaspoon of baking powder
1/4 teaspoon of salt
Broken up chocolate bits to scatter on top (70% cocoa dark chocolate is the way to go on this.)

Preheat the oven to 160°C. Butter and lightly flour a loaf pan. In a large bowl, on the medium speed of an electric mixer, cream the butter until smooth. Add the sugars and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and beat well, then the milk, yoghurt and vanilla. Don’t worry if the batter looks a little uneven. Sift the flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder and salt together right into your wet ingredients. Stir together with a spoon until well-blended but do not overmix. Scrape down the batter in the bowl, making sure the ingredients are well blended. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Spread out your broken chocolate bits onto the top to get that amazingly uneven, melty texture. Bake for 60 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. It might take a little longer. Cool in pan on a rack for about 10 to 15 minutes, at which point you can cool it the rest of the way out of the pan. 

At this moment, a little one in the house starts screaming, "Look, it'th not cake! It'th frosssteen!" We're trying to work on pronouncing things more beautifully, the way a "Princess" would. Shoot me. (By the way, turns out princesses get annoyed when they find out it's not frosting.)

Ripples.

This evaporated into thin air. As you finish this post, there will be no more of this cake in this world. Until you make it.  

Piece of cake?

Oaty-Cherry Crumble

"All the world in one grain of sand
And I've blown it
All my world in one grain of sand
And you own it
Black cherry, black cherry, stone
Black cherry, black cherry"

-Black Cherry, Goldfrapp

LADIES (And MEN who like to cook or eat or have a strange obsession with food photos)! How about we pretend that the Internet is the world, nothing else exists, and we all get along just like we do online? How about we pretend we never had to find out how babies come out of mommies' bodies? How about we pretend we were never asked that question as adults ever? How about we pretend to be a little healthy and add cherries and oats to the two evils: flour and butter? How about it, ladies (and men who fit into the long descriptive phrase above)? Play pretend with me.

Pretty cherries. Yummy cherries.

Pop your cherries. Or rather, pit your cherries. Pamper them by drizzling them with some vanilla and water.

Crush the almonds. I spared them the torture of skinning them. So kind of me.

Mix your dry ingredients together in a small bowl and mix in the butter with your fingers. I love the feeling. I wouldn't use a mixer to do this EVER. It's so pointless even if you're making a bigger quantity.

Pop it in the oven for 25 minutes. It starts oozing pretty colored juice (that's not so pretty once it stains). 

Oh look at that. No, no. Not the water on the tray. Look at the edges. Look at the natural gooeyness of it all. Revel in it.

Eat! I get happy when I make something I can't say "pig out" to. It makes you feel that little extra better about yourself. Extra points if you eat it with yoghurt! 

You'll need (per bowl/ramekin):

5 to 7 pitted cherries

1 heaped tablespoon of all purpose flour

5-7 crushed almonds

1.5 tablespoons of rolled oats

1.5 tablespoons of brown sugar

A pinch of salt

1 tsp of water

1/2 teaspoon of vanilla

1 tablespoon of cold butter

Extra butter/oil for greasing

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Grease each bowl or ramekin. I didn't have enough cherries to fill my bigger ramekins. Throw in your cherries into the serving/baking dish. Combine all your dry ingredients and mix them. Add the cold butter and mix it into the dry ingredients. It'll stick to everything and become... crumbly! Add the dry, buttery mixture to the cherries and bake for 20-25 minutes. Like I said earlier, extra points for yoghurt. Penalties for ice cream. We're trying to pretend we're good to our bodies, remember? 

Half-Half Waffles: A Story of Love & Deception

I love carbohydrates. I love-I love carbohydrates. I love carbohydrates. ts. ts. ts. ts.

If you love carbohydrates too, pretend you know the tune to my song and sing along with me. It's currently very techno-y in my head and that's why there are two "I loves". I'm skipping. Now back to our point: what happens when you love carbohydrates as much as I do? You try to add some whole wheat flour to make believe you're healthier. So when you're in the mood to gorge on carbs, pretend you're being good to your body and feel like tricking innocent children into eating health(ier) waffles all at the same time (which can be very confusing, mind you), I recommend you make these. 1. Because they're good and warm and soft. 2. Because they're freezable. Aha. Freezer fun. Become a cryogenicist today.

Below is my column featuring this recipe in The Daily News Egypt dated Saturday, June 18th, 2011.

Upon exploring one of the city's hypermarkets during my most recent visit to Cairo, I was taken aback by the number of dusty waffle makers sitting sadly on the shelf. Or should we call them multi-purpose snack-making machines? Treading a few steps away from the cashiers, it caught my attention - a shiny, new waffle stand had also made an appearance at the ever-expanding mall, complete with plastic cutlery and no place to sit.

The human waffle makers hurriedly poured the gloopy batter into the overlapping hot irons while children, accompanied by freshly-manicured mommies urging them to add fruit, clamored to pick sugar-infested toppings.

In the past several years, comfort food in Egypt has been welcomed and has itself welcomed a new addition to the family - the waffle, a soft golden grid that comes in many a shape and tends to disappear under a heavy hand of syrup.

Today, waffle irons are usually sold as an afterthought, in a set containing a sandwich maker and a panini grill. I wonder how many of those afterthoughts are taken into consideration and used in the many homes that house the same children rallying to get their sweet treat at the mall.

The popularity of waffles has recently surged in the Middle East but are we simply passing them off as a modern Western innovation to be savoured by many? Do they originate in Belgium? Are today's waffles more exciting than those of days gone by?

The waffle has come a long way and has evolved from a mere mixture of barley and oats to the numerous forms it takes on today. Waffles have been present in the world's history dating back to Ancient Greece. The people of Athena happily munched on Obelios, flat cakes pressed between two metal plates over hot charcoal, much like the thin wafers of today.

Later, the Catholic Church picked up on them and started touting them as one of the more appropriate provisions for fasting season seeing that they didn't contain eggs, dairy products or animal fats.

By the Middle Ages, waffles were eaten by just about everyone – rich and poor, peasants and kings. Sold by street vendors and named Waferers in England and Gaufriers in France, the then wafers, soon to become waffles, were catching on like a house on fire.

The word “wafre” in Middle English was adopted from the word “wâfel” appearing in Middle Low German, which then later changed to the Modern Dutch “wafel”, French “gaufre” and the German “waffel”. Eventually, the New World created the modern American English waffle by the 18th century. I hope you enjoyed my little etymology lesson.

Spreading throughout Europe, people were finding new ways to design their warm waffles using creative waffle irons specially made to brand the homes that requested them. The familiar honeycomb pattern we know today (said to mirror intertwined crosses), coats of arms and religious symbols were all used to mark these tempting tidbits.

The wealthier of society would use honey, eggs and wine to flavor the base recipe of flour and water and by 1270, medieval France founded an entire guild that would train the waffle vendors to do a better job on the street.

Nearing the early 17th century, the Dutch, who had taken an even stronger liking to waffles than the rest of Europe, took them along with their colonies to what was to become the U.S.A. Rapidly changing in America, the waffle earned the extra “f” and was patented, stovetopped and then paired with electricity.

By the 1930s, an electric waffle iron became a much-needed household appliance and by 1953, the world was introduced to store-bought waffles, increasingly available in most parts of the world today.

I remember making waffles for my stepchildren for the first time last year, only to find them surprised that we could make them at home and invent toppings to suit the mood. Sneakily, I traded half of the white flour for the superior wheat flour in hopes of teaching them that brown is usually better when it comes to all things bready. Experiencing this together allowed them to genuinely believe that everything can be made at home if you take a little time to do it; and that making a big batch of waffles to freeze for later allows for days on end of pleasurable waffle eating. All you really needed was a waffle iron, a playful attitude and ingredients already in your pantry.

We tend to forgo the history of food flogging it as inconsequential. Unfortunately, we have forfeited most of our roots to food because of that. Egyptian chefs and researchers alike can spend hours arguing about the origins of our meals because no one took the time to write our food traditions down after the Ancient Egyptians decided to desert us. Argue as everyone may, our new Egypt should start taking note of the changing attitudes of Egyptians toward food and how they will evolve years from now. They should also take note that while my stepchildren prefer maple syrup and bananas on their waffles, I'd prefer a fragrant basil chiffonade atop some macerated ripe strawberries in balsamic vinegar. An epicurean treat.

Half-half Waffles

You'll need:

1 cup of whole wheat flour

1 cup of all-purpose flour

1/4 cup of sugar

1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon

3 tablespoons of baking powder

3/4 teaspoon of salt

1.5 cups of low-fat milk

1/2 cup of water

3 eggs

1.5 teaspoons of vanilla extract

Mix flours, sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon together in a mixing bowl. Add milk, water, eggs, and vanilla to your dry ingredients and mix well. Pour gradually into your waffle maker and cook according to your waffle maker directions. Serve with butter, syrup, fruit and sticky kisses due to stealing the first waffle.
(You could use 2 cups of whole wheat flour instead of one and one. I just didn't have 2 full cups left.)


And now a song to get rid myself of some excess energy: 
They call me Cuban Pete. I'm the king of the Rumba beat. When I play the maracas I go Chick chicky boom, chick chicky boom, chick chicky boom.

The Puffins: beautiful little pancake muffins

I don't know if you've ever heard of these before but I hadn't and the lazy part of me got so happy it literally jumped up and made these the minute I saw them. Conveniently, it was also morning. 


Pancake muffins. What can I say? Pros: 1. You don't have to sit and flip your pancakes one by one. 2. It's super fast to make. 3. Everyone gets to eat at the same time 4. You can substitute the chocolate chips with just about anything or make them plain. 5. They'll make you happy. They'll make your kids happy. They'll make your whoever happy. No need to elaborate any more than this really AND I've got a lot of cleaning to do today so be happy with photos and a recipe my little friendlings and run along. And please, please, please... try these.

Mini Chocolate Chip Pancake Muffins: (Adapted from Bakerella. Thank you, Essmat, for introducing me.)

1 cup of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1/2 teaspoon of baking soda
1/4 teaspoon of salt
2 tablespoons of sugar
2/3 cup of buttermilk (I used a buttermilk substitute - 2/3 cup of milk with 1 tablespoon of vinegar left to stand for 5 to 10 minutes)
1 egg
2 tablespoons of pure maple syrup (I used pancake syrup because I had it around. I'd love to try this with honey or vanilla.)
2 tablespoons of melted butter
1/2 cup milk chocolate chips


Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Generously grease mini muffin pan. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar in a medium bowl. Sift together with a wire whisk. In another bowl, stir buttermilk, egg, maple syrup and melted butter until combined. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and stir until combined. Stir in your chocolate chips and keep a few to sprinkle on the top. Bake for 8 to 9 minutes. (My chocolate chips sadly didn't stay on top.)

Makes 24 mini pancake muffins. Let cool slightly and remove from the pan. You may need to use a toothpick around the edges to separate the pancake muffins from the pan. Serve immediately with warmed butter, maple syrup, pancake syrup, chocolate sauce, your call really. You really should dip these in something. They are, after all, meant to be dipped. And one of the best things about them is how they slip right out of the pan. I love things that don't make me scrub to get stuff out.