One of my favorite childhood memories was going to Grandma's house for waffles. Her waffles transported me into a homey place as I walked into her house and whiffed the toasty aromas. She whipped egg whites and yolks separately, folding them into a wholewheat batter, and then poured it into a piping hot old-fashioned waffle iron. I waited for her to carefully open the waffle iron and then, with a fork, lift the edges away.
The taste was well worth the wait for these crispy waffles. I would watch the butter and syrup fill each little waffle indent. My grandmother was a culinary master in her humble kitchen, sprinkling in love for the secret ingredient.
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