I don’t even know how to convince you of how unbelievably good these waffles are. There just aren’t the words. Believe me, if they existed, I would use them. I would compose sonnets. I would make up a song and sing the song on television.
The best I can do is to implore you to drop everything next Saturday or Sunday morning and make these. And beyond that, serve them with buttermilk syrup. Please. You will thank me. And kiss your computer screen. And propose marriage.
**Side note: Just so you know, I am married, so I can’t marry you. I know. But really, I am. You can marry these waffles, however. They are single. And tasty.**
Beyond their amazing fall taste, these waffles make your kitchen smell like fall for hours. And faintly of Thanksgiving and Christmas. And holidays and happiness. And sweet goodness in your mouth.
They are magnificent with maple syrup, but believe me. Pair the pumpkin and spices with caramel-y buttermilk syrup and you’ll think that you died and went to heaven.
Since Michael and I weren’t going to eat all the waffles at once, we put the rest in a zip-top bag the freezer and have pulled them out and toasted them when we get in the mood for a cozy breakfast. I recommend doing the same.
2 1/2c flour (I used half whole wheat, half all-purpose. Use what you like)
1/3c packed brown sugar
1 Tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
2 1/4tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2c buttermilk (or 2c regular milk with 2 scant Tbsp vineger–I did this with skim milk. Worked beautifully.)
1c pumpkin puree (fresh or canned)
6 Tbsp canola oil
4 eggs, separated
Sift together flour(s), sugar, spices, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Set aside. Combine buttermilk and pumpkin. Stir in canola oil and egg yolks. In a large, clean glass or metal bowl, beat egg whites with a hand mixer or beater until you have stiff peaks (meaning that when you lift the beater out of the bowl, the mixture stays pointy. As in a peak. That is stiff.)
Stir dry ingredients into pumpkin mixture till just combined. Fold in egg whites. Cook waffles in waffle iron according to manufacturer’s directions.
Then cry. And kiss your computer screen. And propose marriage. To the waffles, that is.