Peace, Joy, and Gingerbread Waffles to You

I have two words for you, folks—and they’re not Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Nope, my two words for you are these: Gingerbread Waffles.

Say it with me now: gingerbread waffles. Doesn’t that make you feel better? Doesn’t that take away the sting of long lines at the post office and the horrid word I barely dare whisper—the mall. I tried to pick up a tube of mascara at a nearby shopping center last weekend and took one look at the madness in the parking lot and kept on driving. I drove to the beach and went for a walk and felt much, much better.

It’s a nutty time of year, what with travel and expectations and gathered family that can be both wonderful and—let’s admit it—entirely dysfunctional at times (as the grown child of a psychologist, I am well versed on such topics as family dysfunction).

Sometimes, in the midst of all that madness, what you really need is a gingerbread waffle.



At least that’s what I think. That’s why for my birthday this year I planned a wee little brunch with my family—all wonderful and dysfunctional by turns—and a big stack of gingerbread waffles.

Turns out that morning was the first of what would end up being a lot of snow for Seattle—a really lot of snow. Enough snow to stall the airport, strand travelers, and wreck havoc on a lot of holiday plans and people who just wanted to get to their loved ones. Hopefully by now they’ve made it.



They all could have done with some gingerbread waffles, this I am sure of.

In fact, these waffles make pretty good day-after snacks. They could even be frozen to save for when you really need one (because, let's face it, we all have those days from time to time), but that’s only if you manage not to eat them all.

We didn’t.



But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the gingerbread waffles around these parts. Longtime readers will know that I’m rather ambivalent about pancakes, but I wholeheartedly support the waffle. And a gingerbread waffle is even better. Served with poached quince and preserved cherries, the gingerbread waffle approaches something close to sublime.



Especially with your family around you—two little girls who snuggle up to you on the couch to hear the Nutcracker book read to them for the first time (and then want to hear it twelve more times), a mother who still believes in making link chains out of colored paper, and a brother and sister-in-law who gift you the waffle-iron you’ve been eyeing all year.



I hope wherever you are, your days are filled with warmth and kindness—and maybe even a gingerbread waffle or two.

GINGERBREAD WAFFLES
Serves six

This is pretty much the same recipe I used last year for our Christmas morning gingerbread pancakes—thinned with some milk so it's liquid enough for the waffle iron. I served them with poached quince, preserved cherries, and maple syrup. While I really like the pancake version with lemon curd, I thought the maple syrup was a better match for the waffles. Either way, they are festive and yummy and require no unusual ingredients. You could probably make them today!

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup brewed coffee, cold or at room temperature
4 large eggs
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 to 3/4 cup milk
Vegetable oil for brushing griddle

Whisk together flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices in a bowl. Whisk together water, coffee, eggs, butter, and lemon juice in a large bowl. Add flour mixture and whisk until just combined. Let stand 15 minutes (batter will thicken). Thin with milk to desired consistency.

Brush waffle iron with oil and prepare waffles according to manufactures instructions. Keep waffles warm in a 250° oven until ready to serve.