By Homecoming week at GISH. All three of my high schoolers got swept up in it — Amber on homecoming court (she tried to refuse; her friends made her), Tyler in the freshman spirit parade (he wore his letter jacket that isn't a letter jacket yet and stood at the edge of the crowd like a dignified prisoner), and Justin in the varsity tunnel running out for the game Friday against York. The stadium was full. The lights came on. The marching band did their thing. Justin had three catches, Amber waved from the float, Tyler took pictures on his phone, and I stood in the bleachers with Dave and Gayle and watched my three high schoolers do high school the way high school is supposed to be done in a small Nebraska town on a Friday night in October. I thought about my own homecoming in 1993. I thought about Darla's homecoming in 1996. I thought about both of those things without pain, with just a sweet clear memory, and I was surprised by that — surprised that the memory came without teeth, that the evening contained my dead sister without breaking me, that I could hold all of it at once.
Cookbook at sixty-eight thousand. I wrote a chapter this week about feeding a teenage athlete. Justin is the subject without being named. The chapter is honest about how much food a fourteen-year-old linebacker-adjacent human can eat (answer: everything in the fridge, and then everything in the pantry, and then two bowls of cereal at midnight), and about what you cook on Friday nights when they come home from games still wired and wanting something hot. Grilled cheese. Cornbread. A whole frozen pizza. A reheated plate of pot roast at 10:30 p.m. The chapter was fun. The book is almost fun now. That is the sign you are close to done.
I drove an Omaha run Tuesday and got caught in traffic for two hours on I-80 west because of a jackknifed truck near Lincoln. I pulled into a rest stop and ate leftover chili from Sunday out of a thermos and wrote in my notebook for an hour. Even the bad days are the good days lately. I know this will end. I am enjoying it.
Amber got her homecoming dress from a consignment shop in Kearney. Twenty-two dollars. Navy velvet. It fits her like it was made for her. She wore it to the dance Saturday. Dave took a picture of her on the front porch and his hand was shaking when he held up the phone. He said, "You look like a grown woman." Amber said, "I am a grown woman." Dave said, "Not yet." She kissed him on the cheek and went to the dance.
Gayle had me over for meatloaf Sunday. She made it with oats instead of breadcrumbs, the way she made it when I was a child, the way Larry liked it. She did not say Larry's name. I did not either. We both knew what the meatloaf was for.
Gayle’s meatloaf stayed with me all week — not just the taste of it, but what it meant to cook something the same way, year after year, for someone who is no longer there to eat it. Oats instead of breadcrumbs. A small, steady faithfulness. I kept thinking about oats as a kind of anchor, the way a humble ingredient can hold a whole memory in place. These gluten free oat waffles aren’t Sunday meatloaf, but they carry the same spirit: simple, whole-grain, made with care, the kind of thing you cook when feeding people is an act of love you don’t have words for yet.
Easy Gluten Free Oat Waffles
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups certified gluten free rolled oats
- 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 tablespoon sugar
- 1 1/2 cups buttermilk (or dairy-free alternative)
- 2 large eggs
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (or coconut oil)
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Instructions
- Blend the oats. Add the rolled oats to a blender or food processor and process for 60 to 90 seconds until they reach a fine, flour-like consistency.
- Mix the dry ingredients. Transfer the oat flour to a large mixing bowl. Whisk in the baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar until evenly combined.
- Combine the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, and vanilla extract.
- Make the batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined. Do not overmix. Let the batter rest for 5 minutes so the oats can absorb the liquid and the batter thickens slightly.
- Heat the waffle iron. Preheat your waffle iron according to the manufacturer’s instructions and lightly grease with nonstick spray or a small amount of butter.
- Cook the waffles. Pour approximately 1/2 cup of batter onto the center of the waffle iron (amount will vary by iron size). Close the lid and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, until the waffle is golden and releases cleanly from the iron. Repeat with remaining batter.
- Serve. Serve immediately with maple syrup, fresh berries, or a dusting of powdered sugar. Leftover waffles keep well in the refrigerator for 3 days or freeze for up to 2 months — reheat in a toaster for best results.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 310mg