#38 waffles

Waffles taste like home to me in a way few other things do. My mother has been making these simple, perfect waffles for as long as I can remember, & somehow they always taste the same: golden, comforting, familiar. Wherever we are in the world, no matter the country, the season, or the chaos happening around us, she always makes us waffles. It’s her love language, & it has become one of mine too. This recipe is how I share a little piece of that home, hoping it brings the same warmth into someone else’s kitchen.

For the Waffles:

  • 1-3/4 cups of flour
  • 1 tablespoon of baking powder
  • 1 tablespoon of sugar
  • 1 teaspoon of salt
  • 1-1/2 cups of milk
  • 1/2 cup of butter
  • 3 eggs (if doubling, just use 5 eggs)

Start by whisking together the flour, baking powder, sugar, & salt in a big bowl…the “dry team.” In another bowl, melt the butter, let it cool for a moment, then whisk in the milk & eggs until it’s all smooth & happy. Pour the wet mixture into the dry & stir just until everything comes together. Don’t overthink the lumps; they always work themselves out in the waffle iron.

Heat your waffle iron & give it a little grease if it needs encouragement. Scoop in enough batter to cover the surface (not too much unless you enjoy waffle explosions), close the lid, & let the magic happen. When the iron tells you it’s ready (or when your kitchen smells like a cozy morning) lift the lid to reveal golden, crisp waffles. Keep going until all the batter becomes a stack of warm, mother-approved comfort. Serve immediately with butter melting into every square & whatever toppings make life sweet.


Waffles are everywhere, really…loved in so many forms across the globe, & we’ve tasted our way through quite a few of them. One of my girls’ greatest travel traditions is the hotel breakfast on our layover in Houston before flying to Honduras. It’s not fancy, but the Houston International Airport Hampton Inn´s waffle maker has become a sacred ritual for them. The joy they get from pouring in the batter, flipping the iron, & hearing the beep that announces their waffle is READY… it’s pure childhood magic, crispy edges & all.

Then there were the waffles in Amsterdam; the kind you smell before you even see the stand. Warm, buttery, slightly caramelized, dusted with powdered sugar or dripping with chocolate. Dutch waffles have a story of their own: from thin, crisp stroopwafels filled with syrup, to the thicker, fluffier varieties served fresh on the streets. Each bite feels like stepping deeper into the city’s sweetness & charm.

And of course, Europe loves a waffle moment. From Weihnachtsmärkte to themed fairs, there’s always a waffle stand glowing under strings of lights. Sometimes they’re dipped in chocolate, sometimes sprinkled with cinnamon, sometimes stuffed with Nutella, & sometimes just perfectly plain…a warm treat to hold in your hands while wandering through the cold. There’s something comforting about eating a waffle outdoors in winter, wrapped in your scarf, surrounded by lights, music, & the hum of people enjoying the season.

Waffles have actually been around far longer than most of us realize. Their earliest ancestors appeared in ancient Greece, where flat cakes were cooked between hot metal plates. By the Middle Ages, waffle irons developed the iconic honeycomb pattern we know today, and each region of Europe slowly created its own style. By the 18th and 19th centuries, waffles had traveled across the Atlantic, evolving into the beloved breakfast staple Americans know today. But no matter how many waffles we’ve tasted around the world, the ones that mean the most to me are still my mother’s. Simple ingredients, no fuss, no toppings needed unless you want them. Just love pressed into warm, round goodness. May your waffles come out golden, your mornings feel softer, & your kitchen smell like comfort.

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