Tales from WannaBea Farm

Sometime around Christmas I found a recipe for yeast waffles that was supposed to be very light and crispy, the batter could be made the night before and would keep up to four days in the fridge. Sounded great, and best of all the recipe did NOT call for beaten egg whites. I had planned to make them for our New Year's Day breakfast but as I had the sore throat from hell along with other miserable aches and pains I had to put off trying out this recipe. Finally I was feeling a little perky and decided to get these long anticipated treats made. I gathered all my ingredients together and started to proceed. Oh no, my yeast was dead! Should have known as it had been sitting in the cabinets for who knows how long, going through all kinds of temperature changes. Kind of like a menopausal woman.

While putting the last of the ingredients away I stumbled upon another half filled jar of yeast so I dug all the flour, eggs and milk, etc. out again and patiently waited for it all to come to room temperature. By this time it was after 10:00pm and all I really wanted to do was go to bed. But I was determined; I love waffles and hadn't had any in quite a while. That yeast was dead too! Must have caught something from the other jar. I'm going to bed.

Finally I am ready for my big production, the old cowboy had brought home some fresh yeast and he is going to cook bacon in the morning while I cook the waffles. Aaaah bacon! Another treat we don't usually get.

After dumping the dry ingredients into my mixing bowl I started to measure out 4 cups of milk. Oh no, all I have is 3 cups. But wait; don't I have some powdered milk? Yup, here it is so I mix up a cup of powdered milk and add to the other. Crack an egg into a cup (always, because you just may get a surprise if you don't) and sure enough, the rooster had been busy. Down the toilet went the egg. Crack another just as the old cowboy asks a question. Oops! After cleaning the egg out from between my toes I try again.

Finally my batter was all finished and ready for morning so I poured it into my big 4qt measuring/mixing cup with the pour spout, cover the top with foil, stash it in the fridge and go take my bath. Bathed, powdered and ready for bed I heard the old cowboy in the kitchen. "Honey, you better come see this"! Sticking my head around the door I saw him standing there looking into the fridge. I didn't want to look. Whatever it was, it must be bad. Finally screwing up my courage I took a peek. Shades of I Love Lucy!! My batter had grown. Grown up and over and out. Down the sides of the mixing bowl, down the sides of the fridge, down under the crisper and into all the little grooves and crannies it could find to explore. These little yeasties were definitely NOT dead.

My bed was calling me, but it had to wait. The old cowboy cleaned and scraped while I poured what was left of the batter into another container. Did you ever try to clean up spilled yeast batter? That’s when you realize that yeast really is a living organism, and you start to wonder if it has a brain because it sure seems like it is playing with you. As you wipe up one area it seems to reach out and grab another with long strings of dough almost like the tentacles on an octopus.

Finally, exhausted, I fell into bed with dreams of waffles running through my dreams.

Morning comes and with it the old cowboy realizes that he had forgotten to buy the bacon. But the waffles were great; the recipe a keeper; the experience, memorable.