Baking Soda is NOT baking powder.

For all of my formative years of baking, I correctly distinguished between baking soda and baking powder.  I made delicious cakes, cookies, waffles, and scones, all with the correct leavening agent.

Until Saturday.

Saturday morning, I dreamt of my favorite Apple-Walnut Waffles.  Oh, the nuttiness!  Oh, the light texture!  The bits of apple-sweetness!  A delicious morning treat that managed to keep me full until lunch, even in my nursing-crazed hunger.

All ruined in one swift mistake.

Waffles!

With the baby back asleep, I set to work: crumbling the brown sugar, measuring ingredients- including a slightly greater proportion of wheat flour than originally called for, chopping the apples into the perfect, fine pieces.  With the waffle iron heated, I began scooping the batter, multi-tasking by doing the dishes while the waffles cooked through.

And then I had the foresight to taste-test.

Bitingly bitter.

At first I thought it was the added wheat flour, so I attempted to counter-act this by adding more honey, but to no avail.

I drowned two waffles in syrup, choked them down, and realized what my mistake must have been.

Seventeen waffles, including two apples and the last of my wheat germ, wasted.
Thirty baby-free minutes, wasted.

Until next time, apple-walnut waffles.  Until next time.

UPDATE: My sweet husband would like it known that he ate more than a few of these disgusting waffles.  Because he loves me.

And he doesn't waste food.

How To Make the Best Oatmeal.

Yes, oatmeal: that warm morning cereal you probably eat because you can put it in the microwave for a minute and half and be done.  Oatmeal, whose popularity is due to a convergence of convenience and health.

You might add brown sugar or honey to taste.  Maybe you're even a bit fancier with a sprinkle of cinnamon or a dash of vanilla.  But you probably haven't spent countless mornings varying your oatmeal routine in search of the Very Best Oatmeal*.

I learned fairly quickly Old Fashion Oats, also called Rolled Oats are best for breakfast and left quick oats for breads and steel cut oats for soups or pilafs. Thus, my experimentation centered on these oats.  I learned:
 - To increase creaminess, stir more often!  Use 1 part milk for 2 parts water!
- To decrease creaminess, toast oats before adding any water
- To avoid adding sugar & to start the morning with a serving of fruit, add diced apple as water is boiling; don't wait until you add the oats
- Wheat germ!  Just a tablespoon lends the whole thing nutty flavor
- Speaking of nuts... add some!  Whatever you have on hand: pecans, walnuts, sliced almonds, etc.
- A splash of coconut milk just before serving makes the whole thing seem more decadent
- For even more decadence: nutella.  Yes.  

Currently, I make two or three servings of oatmeal every morning- though it looks unappetizing and glob-like leftover, it is actually quite good reheated with a sprinkle of water.  And then I don't have to clean a pot everyday.  Since I'm not eating dairy (the baby doesn't like it when I do!), this is how I make my oatemal:

1. Resign myself to the fact that the baby will be up for the day within the next half hour.  Decide to make breakfast while I can
2. Measure just under 3 cups of water and set on high heat to boil.  As its coming to a boil, I dice an apple as fast as I can, throwing the apple bits into the pot as the section is done. 
3. Add a shake or two of cinnamon and a few raisins
4. When its boiling, furiously measure out 1 1/2 cups of oats, using only the 1/2 measuring cup to minimize dishes
5. Reduce heat to medium, stirring often
6. When it begins to stick, take off heat, pouring the day's serving into a bowl and the leftovers in pyrex
7. Add nuts and coconut milk if on hand.  Hear the baby crying
8. Shovel the oatmeal into my mouth as my husband changes her diaper, before feeding time. 




*if you have, please tell me!  I'd love to meet a kindred oatmeal-loving spirit.

Buttermilk is Awesome.

Just don't drink it straight.

Growing up, my Cuban mother didn't bake. She or my dad did, on occasion, make pancakes-- but never with buttermilk.  Always the classic light and thin pancakes from the quintessential Southern Cookbook, Virginia Road Recipes, which we picked up the year we lived in Fairfax County, Virginia, while my dad worked as a hot shot lawyer in DC.

Anyway, buttermilk!  Our pancakes didn't have them; waffles and scones and biscuits were things of restaurants and coffee shops, not home-cooked fare.   I recognized the name in so many delicious pastries, but what was this elusive substance?  Was it butter?  Or milk?

So on a trip to Milwaukee to see my dear friend Annie during college (oh, the days of flight vouchers and free visits to friends!), when she jokingly included buttermilk in her list of beverage options, I said yes.  I wanted to try this thing that had brought so much joy to my weekend brunches and weekday scones at the the classroom building's cafe in college.

Kind, sweet Annie tried to dissuade me from taking her offer seriously.  When I insisted, she poured only a small amount, enough to taste.

Then she poured me water.

Thank you, Ms. Annie.  The water proved necessary after sampling the buttermilk.