waffling on the weekend

Yeast waffles; I flavored the batter with cardamom and mascarpone, then let the batter rise overnight

Ahh, brunch.

I love that on Sundays, I can merge two meals into one, which makes it easy for me to justify crossing over to eat anything I want in both the breakfast and lunch genres, and in double the quanity. I mean, I’m eating one less meal; why not make it a giant one?

This past weekend, I decided to try my hand at yeasted waffles, which apparently is the way true Belgian waffles are made. We invited two dear friends over to join us. For me, waffles are a brunch event, not just a meal, and therefore, they’re meant to be shared.

Lemony whipped mascarpone with sage for the yeast waffle topping, or to spread all over your face

Originally, I’d wanted to roast a fresh ham for the occasion, but the hubby reigned me in. We start most of our decisions to entertain this way. I’ll propose having so-and-so over, and the hubby will respond enthusiastically. Then, I’ll drop some sort of bomb like wanting to carve cucumber flower garnishes for every plate or serve up some of my homemade yogurt, and the hubby will look at me, pause, and say the one phrase I always dread:

Okay, so maybe it’s not necessary to carve a roast beast for four people. We compromised and I made cheddar-dill scones and the waffle batter the night before. I fretted a bit over the waffle batter because it’s important to make sure your yeast blooms (i.e., foams) so that you get the proper amount of rise out of the batter, and it’s harder to tell whether the yeast blooms when added to milk instead of water. I imagine the thicker consistency contributes to that. I also added a 1/3 cup of mascarpone and 2 teaspoons of ground cardamom to my batter, just for fun.

In the morning, I used the remaining mascarpone as a topping for the waffles by whipping it, grating in the zest from one lemon, and squeezing in the juice along with a tablespoon of powdered sugar. I rubbed together a couple of sage leaves and put them on top of the mascarpone for a little more fragrance.

Our friends showed up bearing a pile of caramelized bacon, and we marveled at how great minds think alike, because I’d also prepared two trays of bacon with bourbon and brown sugar liberally sprinkled on top. I’ve never made bacon that way, but when I woke up it felt like a boozy sort of day. Their contribution formed a 6-inch mound of bacon-y, bourbon-y goodness on our table, and we kind of chuckled politely at how four people could possibly finish that much bacon.

Well, as it turns out, we can. We did. It’s okay though, because it’s brunch, which means we technically had half for breakfast and half for lunch that day. Right? Right?