Welcome back to Crispy on the Outside, where we believe brunch should involve at least one near-death experience with a waffle iron. Today we pay homage to the unsung hero of weekend mornings: the Belgian waffle. Not the floppy hotel kind served under heat lamps and regret, but the real kind — with a crispy, architectural shell and a soft, custardy middle that says, “I’m worth the extra dishes.”
The Waffle Philosophy
A proper Belgian waffle should be able to:
- Support half a pound of toppings without collapsing like your fantasy football team.
- Sound like toast when tapped.
- Threaten your dental work just enough to feel alive.
If your waffle is limp and weeping syrup like a soggy sponge, you’ve made a pancake with a grid. We don’t serve grid-pancakes here.
Why So Many Eggs?
Because eggs are the structural engineers of breakfast. More eggs = more lift, more richness, and more excuses to call your waffle “decadent” while eating it over the sink. Eggs provide the structure that allows the waffle to remain stiff and crispy, without drying out the interior.
The Iron Throne
A good waffle iron should be heavy enough to double as home defense and hot enough to sear your doubts. If yours came with a plug and a warning label in Comic Sans, you may not be equipped for true crispiness. But we believe in second chances and extra preheating.
Texture or Nothing
This isn’t just about taste. This is about texture. The crunch when you bite in. The steam escaping when you split it open. A good whole wheat will also provide a nutty texture throughout, rather than a bland, one dimensional hellscape. The fact that butter doesn’t sink into the surface but lounges lazily in the grid pockets like it owns the place.
Ingredients
- 2 cups whole wheat flour
- 1 tablespoon sugar
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 3 eggs
- 2 cups buttermilk – let’s be honest here, nobody keeps buttermilk on hand, so just mix 1 3/4 cups milk with 1/4 cup vinegar
- 1/2 cup vegetable oil
Instructions
Make The Mud
Sift together dry ingredients. I have to confess that I do not sift. Personally, I think sifting is a plot to get you to buy more kitchen equipment, and make you miss the morning news. Rather, I prefer to put the flour in the bowl, sprinkle the remaining ingredients around the top of the flour, and then whisk it all for 10-20 seconds. The purpose of sifting seems to be to evenly distribute the leavening and salt, so it seems to be overkill, not to mention an inadequate distributor.
Whisk the remaining ingredients and add to the dry ingredients. Yes, it is rocket science. Mix well, batter will be thin.
Add The Crunch
Once your Belgian waffle maker is completely preheated, fill a half cup measuring cup completely, heaping, like you’re trying to make off with a cartful of cash. I’ve found that a good amount of batter is 2/3 cup, but they don’t make measuring cups exactly that size. I prefer setting the waffle maker to the highest/brownest setting and waiting an extra 15 seconds after the indicator light, well, indicates, or the alarm goes off, or your AI robot slaps you because you haven’t removed your waffle on time.
Enjoy, or don’t, it’s really not my business.
Toppings? Sure.
Fruit, whipped cream, fried chicken, more waffles—we don’t judge. But if you drown this masterpiece in syrup before appreciating the first crunch, that’s between you and your conscience.
So here’s to the Belgian waffle: tall, proud, unapologetically crispy. A breakfast icon. A textural marvel. And proof that some mornings, the best thing you can do is press dough between two hot plates and hope for the best.
Coming soon: How to weaponize leftover waffles for emotional support.