Sourdough Waffles, Without Conflict

There is an art to living with another human.  It is a delicate dance of neuroses.  A safari of previously hidden late night eating habits, secret cigarette stashes, and video games, exhumed. The migration of two people into one space inevitably unearths certain questions.

How many bottles of mezcal can be comfortably housed in one 500-square-foot apartment?

Does one find the practice of yoga in the living room charming or repulsive?

Is it acceptable to leave a trail of breadcrumbs in the jar of mayonnaise?  (It is not.)

Can a meal of beer or ladyfingers or cheese be consumed for dinner without judgment? 
Must one wear pants while doing so?

Where does our loose change go?  Does it get combined into a repurposed tin? Become stacked side by side in arranged identical piles?  Get tossed in the trash to avoid the discussion altogether?

The answers to such questions—minus the mayo contamination, which is unforgivable—are a barometer of insanity.  Best to know if your lunacy matches up before buying bed frames together.

All this to say Brett officially moved in today. (!)  While we don’t have all our personal peccadillos unpacked just yet, we typically agree on matters that matter.  And we are a solid match when it comes to breakfast.

So waffles are a safe bet.

We have a semi-regular weekend routine wherein Brett cooks the softest scrambled eggs in the slowest and loveliest of ways with the care and craft one might take to build a bird’s nest.  If we have cheddar cheese on hand, shreds of it get swirled into the eggs during their final moments in the pan.

Meanwhile, I press three waffles using batter prepped the previous night.  The first waffle always sticks a bit—which typically causes cursing as I prod it out of the iron using a fork, with the patience of a kindergartener.   (Ample greasing and preheating usually prevents this problem.)

If we are feeling fancy there is also bacon or hollandaise to be had, or maple syrup if I am too fragile or tired to deal with egg yolks or pork grease.

The waffles puff up like Belgians, offering crispy exteriors and fluffy insides with a slight tang. Like most things worth waiting for they require some forethought and, unfortunately, some sourdough starter—which necessitates tracking down a human that has some.  Or, perhaps, make your own.  

It is worth it.  These are waffles of finest quality. And they are highly unlikely to cause any cohabitation conflicts.  Unless it is about who gets the last one.

Sourdough Waffles

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (200 grams) sourdough starter (not fed)
• ½ cup (55 grams) all-purpose flour
• ½ cup (60 grams) whole wheat flour
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 1 egg
• ¼ tsp salt
• ½ tsp baking soda
• 2 tbsp olive or canola oil

Instructions:

the night before

In a large bowl, mix the starter, flours, milk, and sugar until well combined; cover with plastic wrap and place in the fridge overnight (ideally 10 to 20 hours ahead, see note below).

the day of

To the starter mixture, add the egg, salt, baking soda, and oil; stir to combine. 

To make the waffles, heat your waffle iron.  (Cooking instructions may vary slightly depending on the type you are using.  I have a Nordic Ware stovetop Belgian waffle maker and after greasing it with canola oil, I preheat each side a few minutes on the stovetop, flipping halfway through.)

Once the iron is preheated, pour in about 1/3 of your batter (or roughly 2/3 cup).  Close the iron and cook until the waffle is golden brown on both sides.  (If you are using a stovetop iron you’ll want to flip it after a few minutes to cook both sides evenly.)

Repeat with remaining batter.

Makes three 6-inch square waffles

Notes:

1. The whole wheat adds a nice nuttiness and I’d definitely encourage it.  The milk type can be swapped depending on your preference.
2. Because the sourdough mixture rests in the fridge overnight, it benefits from being left on the countertop an hour or so to let the microbes warm up; this helps the waffles rise better. (But this is a living product and may need some individual tweaking.)
3. They are best eaten the day of, but leftovers will keep a day or two in the fridge and can also be frozen.
    

Listen to Your Pancakes

Last Tuesday I finished my career as a part-time graduate student.  I sat around my professor’s dining room table for six with nine other people in sticky, humid air and listened to ethnobotanical presentations and ate wild green pie, filled with lamb’s-quarters and wood sorrel from the lawn outback.

At one point someone’s homemade kombucha exploded and my professor used white linen napkins that were once Julia Child’s to clean up the fermented tea.  Then we ate peanut cake with salted chocolate icing made using a family heirloom recipe born from life on a Mississippi legume farm. I talked about the cultural thorniness of the black raspberry and of Dr. Oz and scientific hubris.

It was a very odd, very appropriate, ending to the past five years.  A time that has deeply tested the limits of my sanity, has limited my social capacities and back account, and has forever broadened my view of food and society.

I am grateful to have this perspective and am looking forward to reacquainting with my kitchen.  

Most recently this has included pancakes.  The past few years have left me perpetually searching for recipes that incorporate spent sourdough starter and also for pancakes that puff up like the kind served by someone who calls everyone honey. 

My Life in Sourdough has that version.  The ingredient list is admittedly a bit limiting, as it requires you know someone who regularly maintains a starter.  My brother has killed at least three.  And I’m hoping these pancakes might motivate him to put an end to his microbial massacres once and for all.

If you regularly feed a starter, you are in luck.  This will aid in creating thick, fluffy saucer-sized shapes that take to maple syrup far better than any other breakfast food.  (Even better than the waffles of insane greatness.) I have made the recipe at least three times in the past month.  That alone should come through loud and clear.

Because if I have learned anything over the past five years, it’s that it is sometimes better to let the food do the talking.  As Mel Brooks once joked, listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it. Something tells me that pancakes can speak even louder.

Sourdough Blueberry Brown Butter Pancakes

Adapted from My Life in Sourdough

Ingredients:

• ½ to ¾ cup sourdough starter (not fed)
• ½ cup all-purpose flour
• ½ cup whole wheat flour
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 1 egg
• ¼ tsp salt
• ½ tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1 scant cup frozen or fresh blueberries
• zest of one lemon (optional)

Instructions:

the night before

In a large bowl, mix the starter, flours, milk, and sugar until well combined; cover and place in the fridge overnight (ideally 10 to 20 hours ahead, see note below).

the day of

In a medium or large sauté pan, melt the butter over medium heat; continue to cook until it turns a light caramel and starts to smell nutty; set aside to cool slightly.  To the starter mixture, add the egg, salt, baking soda, and vanilla extract.  Slowly add in the melted butter and then fold in the blueberries and lemon zest (if using).

Wipe out the sauté pan to remove any dark bits and butter the pan again; set the heat to medium.  Scoop about 1/3 cup heaping batter into the pan and then cook until it starts to bubble and turn golden on the underside.  Flip and cook about 1 minute more or until cooked throughout.  Repeat with remaining batter, buttering the pan after every pancake.

Makes about six to eight 4 to 5-inch diameter pancakes

Notes:

1. The whole wheat adds a nice nuttiness and I’d definitely encourage it.  The milk can be swapped depending on your preference.
2. If the starter mixture rests in the fridge about 10 hours, it benefits from being left on the countertop an hour or two to let the microbes warm up; this helps the pancakes rise better.  The longer it is left in the fridge the less time it needs on the countertop.  (But this is a living product and may need some individual tweaking.)
    

Fruit and Nut Granola Bars with Cacao and Sea Salt: Achieving Homeostasis

I recently had my yearly physical. My lipid profile aligned me with the Ikarians.  However, I also had a walnut-sized lump in my left breast that dictated a mammogram.  I am not sure why so many women complain about them.  

Having your breasts smashed between two synthetic plates is nothing compared to having them biopsied, penetrated with a needle and then fished around in, like you were searching for car keys in an oversized purse.

Except instead of gathering keys, tissue samples are collected and sent to the lab for testing.  

Then a tiny piece of titanium in the shape of a microscopic pigtail is inserted into your breast to tag the lump, and to be with you forevermore. Your boob is bruised.  Then you wait to hear if you have cancer. 

No one talks about this.  Most stop after the electromagnetic radiation.

In an attempt to explain homeostasis, I remember my sixth grade science teacher said a system will desperately try to maintain stability, no matter the cost.  It knows no other path.  If you stop and think, it’s quite incredible—whether a human body, the plant earth, or a broken hollandaise—forces react involuntarily to protect against stimuli that threaten to disturb the balance.

The system doesn’t always succeed.  But the internal fight is there.  So while I await biopsy results, I choose to distract myself by mashing some fruit and oats into squares, operating within the bounds of snack homeostasis. 

The coordinated alliance of figs, cherries, pecans, seeds, and grain melds with maple and honey.  

Meanwhile, the added stick of butter threatens to make granola bars about as non-righteous as they can get; yet, also ensures equilibrium among the other ingredients.  It is browned until it becomes nutty and additionally harmonious.

I was worried the cacao would muck up the fruit and oat flavor.  That the nibs would become overpowering, an indolent shroud for the more virtuous bits.  But everything binds into something reminiscent of a seven-layer bar, with the malleable properties of a product put forth by the Quaker Oats man.

The result is glorious.

We tend to walk through life thinking in concrete terms.  Things are either healthy, or not.  Good or bad.  Yet, we are often standing on tectonic plates.

The best we can do is be open, and malleable, and have faith in the forces that bring us back to homeostasis. And in those that bring us granola bars.

Fruit and Nut Granola Bars with Cacao and Sea Salt

Inspired by Nigel Slater from Ripe: A Cook in the Orchard

Ingredients:

• 110 grams (1 stick) salted butter (includes butter to grease the pan)
• 70 grams (about ½ cup) dried whole figs
• 60 grams (about ½ cup) pecan halves
• 40 grams (about ¼ cup) dried sour cherries
• 30 grams (about ¼ cup) sunflower seeds
• 180 grams (about 1¼ cups) rolled oats
• 20 grams (about ¼ cup) shredded unsweetened coconut
• 35 grams (about ⅓ cup) almond meal
• 50 milliliters (about 3½ tbsp) honey
• 50 milliliters (about 3½ tbsp) maple syrup (grade B preferable)            
• 90 grams (about a scant ½ cup) superfine sugar (see note)
• 15 grams (about 2 tbsp) cacao nibs (not chocolate covered)
• heaping ⅛ tsp fleur de sel or other finishing sea salt

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Butter a 9-inch square pan (I used a 11 x 7).  Remove the fig stems and quarter the figs.  In a food processor, finely chop the figs, pecans, cherries, and sunflower seeds until they hold together when pressed. (This can also be done by hand; the finer you chop the ingredients the better the bars will hold together.)  Place in a large bowl and mix in the oats, coconut, and almond meal.

In a large saucepan, melt the remaining butter on medium heat until it turns a deep golden brown and starts to give off nutty aromas; stir in the honey, syrup, and superfine sugar.  When the mixture comes to a rolling boil, add in the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly; stir in the cacao nibs.

Tip the mixture into the prepared pan and press it down firmly.  Scatter the salt evenly on top.  

Bake for 20 to 30 minutes.  As it cooks, the edges should start to slightly puff up.  It is done when the rim is golden and the middle puffs up to meet the edges.  As the mixture cools, press it down again. When the mixture is still warm, but cool enough to easily handle, cut into 12 bars.

Let cool completely and then store in an airtight container for 5 days (or freeze).

Makes 12 bars

Notes:

1. If you can’t find unsweetened coconut, you can use 200 grams (about 1⅓ cups) oats instead.
2. If you don’t have superfine sugar, whirl regular granulated sugar in a food processor.  It’ll take about ¾ cup to make the amount of superfine sugar that you’ll need for this recipe (you may have just a little bit extra).
3. If you use a 11 x 7 pan it may need a little more time to bake (closer to 30 minutes), whereas a 9-inch square pan will require a little less time.