I have a theory. Breakfast can be eaten anytime. It probably comes from the memory of my mother, arch planner of menus, sometimes giving up and saying, “When in doubt, repeat breakfast.” In our case, that meant eggs so she’d do a fancy omelette, fluffy, buttery and just set, filled with mushrooms, odd bits of meat or cheese, even, once, tender fresh peas.
I wasn’t then a pea-lover, but I remember that huge golden omelette spilling emerald green peas. I remember the pan she cooked and then served it in: wide, shiny stainless steel, with a long black heatproof handle with a metal ring to hang it from, and it still hangs in that kitchen. And I remember her tip to include a teaspoonful of water while beating the eggs — that prevented a bad eggy smell — and, at the end, a sprinkling of flour to hold the airiness that had been achieved with so much effort and whisking. This was obviously in the days before non-stick coating and cholesterol. Today I do it in oil, but sometimes with a small knob of butter as well.
Our household isn’t easy with pooris and dosas , but they do for a quick dinner in many homes. Everyone likes them — there isn’t anything to not like — but we never have dosa batter ready and waiting and, thanks to the health columns in the Sunday papers ranting about reusing oil, I worry about the wasted karahi of oil after making pooris . But parathas are easier to deal with. Even someone who can’t roll a poori or a roti can roll a paratha and fill it and oil use can be minimised or even skipped altogether.
I’ve learnt to make ‘ parathas ’ with none, so technically they’re just stuffed rotis . The only caveat is that they must be filled to bursting, that the ball of filling should be larger than the ball of kneaded atta , if not larger. Boiled potatoes, grated cauliflower or radish, cooked minced mutton, smashed paneer , blanched and tempered peas — whatever we would eat with parathas is stuffed into them.
Essentially anything works for breakfast, as long as the menu is simple. And then the same thing works for dinner, especially because most days no one has time to sit down to eat a large meal at the crack of dawn. So waffles, which were popular for Sunday breakfast with the children when they were children, have now been shifted to dinner. And they can be served with anything. Alan Davidson, in The Oxford Companion to Food , says: “Their thickness and deep honeycomb pattern gives them an ability to support lots of butter, maple syrup or whipped cream…”
Once, in the last millennium, I was at a family friend’s place at teatime. The mothers were playing canasta. The snack was waffles and pickle. Not just regular mango or lime, but wild partridge. Not a combination better than waffles-and-butter-and-honey, or waffles-and-scrambled eggs, but memorable.
Flavouring the batter by adding garlic or herbs is an easy change. Another variation using waffles is by using them like sliced bread. The waffle-maker can be used as a panini or grilled sandwich press after filling with cheese or cooked chicken. They take some time to be cooked, so if large numbers have to be served together they can be partially cooked in advance and kept, spread out to prevent steaming and sogginess, until you need them. Then they just have to be placed back in a hot waffle iron and cooked till crisp and golden-brown.
Waffles
(Makes 8 waffles)
4 eggs
2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
2 cups buttermilk (or 1 1/2 cups dahi and 1/2 cup water)
1 cup melted butter
Preheat waffle iron. Beat eggs till light. Sift together flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder. Add flour mixture and buttermilk to beaten eggs. Stir till smooth and then stir in melted butter. Pour batter on to lower half of waffle iron, about 1/2 cup at a time. Lower lid on batter, cook till it stops steaming or as manufacturer’s instructions advise. Loosen edge of each waffle with knife tip and lift out. Serve hot.
If you want to avoid butter; use vegetable oil. Add garlic paste, chopped herbs and pepper for savoury waffles.
