Alternative post title: "What to Do When You Don't Have a Waffle Iron"
Last Friday, sci-fi writing legend John Scalzi found Chica Chocolatina's recipe for Churro Waffles and proceeded to get very excited about them, getting the rest of the internet both excited about them and very hungry in the process.
The recipe itself is nice and simple when it comes to ingredients, as long as you've got cinnamon in the house. But there was a bit of a problem stopping me from using it...
I don't own a waffle iron. Waffle irons aren't really much of a thing in the UK (because waffles aren't either) and I'd have to order one online to even get hold of one.
I despaired. And despaired. And despaired some more.
But while I was despairing, loudly, about my lack of waffle iron, chef-y housemate reminded me that we have a certain utensil in our house that serves the same function (two hot plates keeping the contents sealed).
With the missing link now in place, it was just a case of putting together the recipe. Easy peasy. And thus, a Scottish spin on churro waffles (called "Cinnamon "Churro Waffle" Triangles" with the subtitle "they're sort of like pancakes or doughnuts" because of my friends don't know what churros are*) was born and hastily consumed!
So that's how my Saturday morning sugar overdose happened, along with the rest of the household and everyone else who set foot in our door that day. And it's all that damn sci-fi writer's fault.
*Really there's no 'sort of' about it -- churros are doughnuts. But this recipe isn't deep-friend so the resulting treat is more like a pancake is texture.
It's Burns Night, a night when Scots young and auld sit down for a proper Burns supper of haggis, 'neeps and tatties; whiskey and a recital of some of the bard's famous works.
Well, we had haggis. One out of three isn't so bad, right? ...Right?
Came home for work and bought a haggis for Dave to cook for dinner, after haggling over what kind of tatties we were having (no 'neeps, Dave isn't too keen on turnips). He was surprised that I bought a real haggis instead of a tinned one. I'm not entirely sure why anyone would eat haggis out of a tin, the squishy meat-bag in the fun part.
We had it with some Pimms & lemonade, played video games, watched TV, washed the dishes, and made Rocky Road. It wasn't exactly traditional, but it was delicious.
Now I'm checking up the Wikipedia page on Burns Suppers, getting excited about the 'Address to a Haggis' and regretting not reading it. Then I try to read it and get horribly self-conscious about how ridiculously Scottish I'm sounding, and keep interrupting my own reading going 'What...?' and 'I don't know what that means...' before trailing off confused and defeated.
I think next year I might do it properly, complete with embarrassing poetry readings, a messed-up Toast to the Lassies because Dave will no doubt have made the meal again, and maybe even a fair share of whiskey.
I love To A Mouse, and not just because I went through a fangirl stage for Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men".
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
...It's because we all guess an' fear sometimes.
Now, I've got some Rocky Road to nom on.