2 more silly stories from the Hoppers 2011 camp. When Mum and Dad last deserted us to head for La Chapelle d'Armentieres one of the missions they go on is to a deli on the road to Belgium called Wez Macquart (or something sim'lar). This is an olde deli which goes in for horse brasses, stuffer wildboar heads on the wall, agricultural impliments hanging up and , in one corner, an old fashioned waffle iron which intrigued the shoppers.
Comprising of 2 irons with stippled faces which squash together in the heat of a fire, squishing the waffle mixture out into a circular, stipple-surfaced biscuit. The deli was selling these by the packet, but we were guessing that they were now made by some new, pristine, stainless steel industrial process in a big biscuit factory, rather than by some buxom farm wench squishing them individually in her tongs. Sorry. Dad made me put that bit in.
Later in the weekend, Andy (co-owner of the Mademoiselle car) found such a device in a huge flea market at only 3 Euros, so just had to have them. Our hostess, Anne was very amused at the thought of Dad and Andy trying to coax an edible biscuit out of this rusty relic. Not to be outdone, Andy brought them back to his workshop and wire-brushed them to within an inch of their lives and googled Belgian waffle mix recipes (under their English and their Walloon names).
At the camp communal barbeque, after everyone had done their meat and main courses, we gave them a try, the irons hot on their supporting ring dropped onto the coals, the dough squished out flat between the irons, the butter bubbling out and melting and evapourating from the backs of the irons. The biscuits were delicious, like a dense version of ice cream wafers, all sweet from the cane sugar and slightly cinnamon-ish.
And then there was me showing my usual keen-ness to dive under 2CVs to get out of the sun and coming out with a slick of sump oil all down my back. 2CVs are just the right height and I can't resist. Improvement on horse poo, I guess.
Deefs
