Whole Grain Waffles

Went to see Lily's restaurant — the one in Montrose where she manages — for the first time this week. She'd been inviting me for months and I'd been making excuses because eating at someone else's restaurant makes me want to critique the food, and critiquing the food at my daughter's workplace is not a good look. But she insisted. So I went.

The place is called Verde — modern Mexican, small plates, tequila bar. Not my style of food, but the kitchen was running tight. I could see it in the service: plates coming out evenly, servers moving without collision, the rhythm of a kitchen that's been drilled. Lily was in the middle of it, managing the floor with the calm authority of someone who knows every table, every ticket, every bottle in the bar. She looked up and saw me and gave a half-wave without breaking stride. That's my daughter. Professional. Controlled. Effective.

I ordered the carnitas tacos and a pork belly tostada. Both were good. The pork belly was very good — braised until it surrendered, crispy on top, sitting on a bed of pickled red onion and avocado crema. I left a forty percent tip and a note on the receipt that said "The pork belly is excellent. The manager is better." Lily found it later and texted me a photo of it. She said, "Dad." I said, "What." She said, "Thank you." I said, "The pork belly did the work."

AA meeting Tuesday. Kevin wasn't there. First time he's missed in two months. I texted him Wednesday. No response. Texted again Thursday. He responded Friday: "Bad week. I'm okay. Didn't drink." Three sentences. They were enough. I told him I'd see him Tuesday. He said okay. You learn in sobriety that you can't carry someone else's weight, but you can stand next to them while they carry it. That's what I do. That's what Bill did for me.

Made a bánh xèo Saturday — Vietnamese sizzling crepe. It's a rice flour and turmeric batter cooked in a hot skillet with coconut milk, filled with shrimp, pork, bean sprouts, and scallions, then folded over like an omelet. The outside should be crispy as a potato chip and the inside should be savory and tender. You wrap pieces of it in lettuce with herbs and dip in nuoc cham. The sound it makes in the pan — that sizzle, the "xèo" that gives it its name — is the sound of Vietnamese home cooking. It's the sound Mai's kitchen made on Saturdays. It's the sound I'm trying to keep alive.

The bánh xèo I made Saturday got me thinking about what Saturday cooking really is — not a project, not a recipe to check off, but a ritual of presence. Mai cooked on Saturdays because that was the day the kitchen could breathe. I’ve been trying to hold that same discipline: show up, use the pan, make something with your hands. When I don’t have the shrimp or the rice flour or the energy for something as involved as a sizzling crepe, I turn to whole grain waffles — same hot pan logic, same satisfying sizzle, same sense that you did something real before noon. Lily grew up on these too. Crispy outside, tender inside, made from scratch. Some rituals translate.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4 (about 8 waffles)

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup rolled oats
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 3/4 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Cooking spray or neutral oil for the waffle iron

Instructions

Heat the iron. Preheat your waffle iron according to the manufacturer’s instructions. A properly preheated iron is the difference between crispy and soggy — don’t rush this step.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the whole wheat flour, all-purpose flour, rolled oats, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and brown sugar until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs until lightly beaten, then whisk in the buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla extract.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir just until combined. A few lumps are fine — overmixing will toughen the waffles. Let the batter rest for 3–5 minutes while the iron finishes heating.
Cook. Lightly coat the waffle iron with cooking spray or a brush of oil. Pour enough batter to fill the iron (usually 1/2 to 3/4 cup depending on your iron’s size). Close the lid and cook until the waffle is deep golden and releases cleanly from the iron, about 4–5 minutes. Do not open the iron early or the waffle will tear.
Hold and repeat. Transfer finished waffles to a wire rack in a 200°F oven to keep warm and crisp while you cook the remaining batter. Never stack waffles directly — the steam will soften the crust you just worked for.
Serve. Serve immediately with maple syrup, fresh fruit, or a pat of butter. These hold well and reheat in a toaster oven at 375°F for 5 minutes if you have leftovers.

Nutrition (per serving, 2 waffles)

Whole Grain Waffles — A Saturday Morning Ritual, Kept Alive