Oat Buttermilk Waffles with Mango-Fig Spread

The first hard frost came Tuesday night. I knew it was coming — the forecast said twenty-eight degrees, which in Vermont means either twenty-eight or twenty-two, because Vermont weather forecasts are suggestions more than predictions. I went out Monday evening and picked everything that was left in the garden: the last green tomatoes, a few stubborn peppers, some herbs. The green tomatoes went on the windowsill to ripen, lined up like a last act of optimism. Some will turn red. Some won't. You can't force a tomato. You can only give it a window and hope.

With the green tomatoes, I made fried green tomatoes. It's not a Vermont dish — it's Southern, strictly speaking — but I learned it from a woman I served with in the Army, or rather, she described it in a letter, and I tried it twenty years later when I had more green tomatoes than patience. You slice them thick, dip them in buttermilk, dredge in cornmeal seasoned with salt and pepper, and fry in a cast-iron skillet with enough oil to cover the bottom. Two minutes a side. They should be golden and crispy outside, tart and warm inside. They're unreasonably good for something that started as a compromise.

The blog readers liked the fried green tomatoes post. A woman from Georgia wrote to say I was "close but not quite" and offered her grandmother's version, which includes a pinch of cayenne in the cornmeal. I tried it. She was right. Sometimes the best recipes come from strangers who know more than you do.

November is here now. The trees are bare. The house is battened down — storms in the windows, the summer screens stored in the barn, the woodpile stacked and covered. Helen put the heavy quilts on the bed, the ones her mother made, patched and re-patched over forty years. They weigh about fifteen pounds and sleeping under them is like being held down by something that loves you. I've slept under lighter blankets in hotels and felt nothing. The weight matters. The weight is the point.

Frost has moved from the porch to the rug by the woodstove, his official winter station. He'll be there until April. I'll be in the chair next to him with a book and a cup of coffee and the stove going and the house contracted to its winter size, which is smaller than summer but somehow more itself. Vermont houses know what they are in winter. They're shelters. They're warm rooms in a cold world. That's what kitchens are too. Warm rooms. Making food. Waiting for spring. It's enough.

The buttermilk I’d used for the fried green tomatoes left me with most of a quart still in the fridge, and November mornings in Vermont have a way of demanding something more substantial than toast. These oat buttermilk waffles are what I’ve been making the morning after the first frost for three years running now — the oats give them a little weight, the buttermilk keeps them tender, and the mango-fig spread is the kind of small brightness that makes sense when the trees are bare and the light is thin. Frost the dog approves; he stations himself under the kitchen table whenever the waffle iron comes out.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1 3/4 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
For the Mango-Fig Spread:
1/2 cup dried figs, stems removed and roughly chopped
1/2 cup frozen or fresh mango chunks
2 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

Instructions

Make the spread. Combine the chopped figs, mango, water, and honey in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 8—10 minutes until the fruit is soft and the mixture has thickened. Remove from heat, stir in lemon juice, and mash to a rough, spreadable consistency. Set aside.
Pulse the oats. Place the rolled oats in a blender or food processor and pulse 6—8 times until they are broken down but still have some texture — not a fine flour, more like coarse cornmeal.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the pulsed oats, flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, and vanilla until combined.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir just until no dry streaks remain. The batter will be thick; a few lumps are fine. Do not overmix.
Heat the waffle iron. Preheat your waffle iron to medium-high and lightly grease with butter or nonstick spray.
Cook the waffles. Pour enough batter to just fill your waffle iron (about 3/4 cup for a standard iron). Close and cook until the steam slows and the waffles are deep golden brown, about 4—5 minutes. Repeat with remaining batter, keeping finished waffles warm in a 200°F oven on a rack.
Serve. Top waffles with a generous spoonful of the mango-fig spread. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Oat Buttermilk Waffles with Mango-Fig Spread — When the Buttermilk Is Already Out