We have frozen waffles in the freezer. Whole grain ones, but still, 'processed'. It's pretty much what I resort to when the kids breakfast menu needs to deviate from the standard daily grind of cereal, or what they like to call 'Grown Up Toast', which is just a huge frickin' piece of sliced sourdough coated with almond butter or jelly.
When I got up this morning I did so in the mood to 'make' waffles. Not just pull them out of a box and toss 'em into the toaster, but to break out the waffle iron and pancake mix. I wanted a few moments of 'control' over something in the daily routine, and I wanted to mentally pause and have the calming 'retro' experience of mixing up some batter, pouring it onto the hot iron, smelling the cooking dough and waiting for the steam to subside, indicating that they were ready to eat.
This ties into my own experiences as a kid. I have strong sentimental memories of waffles occasionally being made in our home. It was not a routine thing, making it special, and to this day there's something about the smell of a warm waffle, melted butter and a paint-bucket sized container of maple syrup that just screams 'childhood'.
Of course, the presence of blueberries in the fridge added to the event, so with the help of the kids, the batter was mixed up, blueberries folded in, and the 'waffling' ensued. It took just a moderate amount of time over the frozen approach but the therapeutic benefits were worth doing so. It made me feel a tad calmer, which is something I've been trying to integrate into my daily life. I'm trying to walk slower, take on less, and just not let things seem so serious all the time.
Making blueberry waffles by hand falls into that theme quite nicely.
