Muffles. Or Maybe Wafflins.

Recently we had some success at making omelettes on the waffle iron. There is a weird pleasure in eating food with grid-patterned holes in it, so we thought we would try something else.

Muffin batter made with molasses, spices, walnuts and tea-soaked raisins.

As the batter rises, the iron opens slightly. The hinge is not articulated, so the muffins turn out slightly wedge-shaped.

Oh yes.

So satisfying to peel it off the iron.

A pile for the freezer.

The ratio of crispy edge bits to moist innards has been vastly improved. And there was much rejoicing.

We have not found a way to use the waffle iron to make coffee, but we aren't very interested in trying. The origami pour-overs that we wrote about are still making reasonable coffee. Soon we'll have a Best Of list ready to post.

While we sipped coffee and munched muffin-waffles, we wondered why so many breakfast foods seem to contain double f.

To Waffle An Egg

A breakfast graced by the airy, crunchy, pockety, leger-de-pain of a cloud of waffles is bound to be a happy one (provided the coffee is fresh).

And there is no dark, dungeon cell as forgotten as the kitchen cabinet or hall closet that keeps a waffle iron for the other 364 days of the year.

We wanted to get more use out of our waffle iron than just an occasional freezer full of clouds and a forearm full of contact burns. Hence, this: the Cheese Omelette Waffle (or "Chomffle", which is hard to say).

A very hot iron keeps the egg from escaping over the sides.

The cheese awaits the closing of the lid, so as to crispify.

The first photo is a damned dirty liar.

Better than expected! The cheese (barely visible) was crisp and the wafflated tesseracts increased the golden surface area well into the range of "Very Good - Delicious".

We also had spinach (not shown) and the coffee was fresh.