The Waffle: From Greek Ritual to Holy Sacrament to the Breakfast Table

The long, fascinating history of the waffle in all its forms. Including my favorite waffle recipe of all time.

One of my favorite mental games to play is the “Anthropologist from another planet” game (taken from Temple Grandin’s memorable phrase). The game is this: look at a human custom or artifact without any of its cultural context, as if you were an alien trying to figure out humanity’s behavior from scratch. What would an alien anthropologist make of swimming pools, or ice machines, or baseball games? What would they think we were up to?

If our interplanetary anthropologist were to land in the American South, they might encounter one of these:

What would they imagine this was? A place for food, certainly. But what is a waffle, and what is its role, and why is it so important as to merit an entire network of “houses”? The alien might ascribe some ceremonial importance to the waffle, suggesting a ritual consumption, by youth late at night or by families immediately after a religious service.

And though it sounds absurd, the anthropologist from another planet might not be far off. That’s because our waffle, just like my grandmother’s biscotti and horchata, has its roots in Greek religious practice. The story is this.

As we’ve discussed before, the Greeks were big on ceremonial cakes. This reflected the importance of grain in the Greek diet; just as ritual animal sacrifice stemmed from the practice of hunting and consuming animals, grain offerings stemmed from a reliance on the wild grasses the ancients domesticated for food. Cakes made of wheat or barley were offered to a wide array of deities in a variety of ceremonial contexts. These ritual cakes- made from a mixture of flour and water, with other ingredients added- weren’t always baked in ovens; in fact, ovens were an expensive rarity in ancient Greece. More often, cakes were baked on a pan or griddle, resembling our pancakes. And the custom was to decorate the cakes in imagery relevant to the religious context: snake-shaped cakes for a serpent deity, bull-shaped cakes for Zeus, etc. At some point, some crafty ancient figured out that by pressing an embossed plate onto the top of the cake as it was baking on the griddle, one could make a decoration. This special cake became known as obelios, probably from the word for “coin”: just as a coin is made by squeezing metal between embossed dies, a decorative cake can be made by squeezing it between embossed heated plates. Obelios became one of the myriad cakes of ancient Greece, and the food was adopted by the Romans, who called it panis obelius (panis meaning “bread”). The Romans used these cakes ceremonially too, and invented a scissor-like iron implement to make them, decorated with religious images. After heating the plates of the iron over a fire, a dough could be pressed in between the plates to bake it.

Detail from the painting the Fight Between Carnival and Lent by Breugel the elder, showing waffle-making.

At this point, the history of our iron-pressed cake went in two directions, one sacred and one profane. As Rome converted to Christianity, it switched the imagery on panis obelius from pagan to Christian symbols, and reframed the purpose of the cake itself: instead of an offering to the Greco-Roman gods, it became a symbolic reminder of Jesus’ last supper and the bread consumed there. Early Christians had previously eaten unleavened passover bread (matzoh) as communion- what Jesus would have eaten at the last supper- but the Romans instead adapted pagan panis obelius for the purpose. They had invented the communion wafer. The iron-baked communion wafer became even more popular in the Medieval period, as metalworking skill increased. Wafer iron decor became more elaborate and detailed, and the symbology of the communion wafer became more and more decorated, with images of crosses, apostles, and the last supper frequently portrayed. Simultaneously, the importance of communion in Catholic rituals increased, resulting in the establishment of the “doctrine of transubstantiation” in which the wafer is said to be transformed into the literal body of Christ during the service.

A historic iron for making communion wafers.

But panis obelius wasn’t only for church. Romans realized that the raised ridges of the pressed wafer weren’t just decorative- they were also delicious. By increasing the surface area and contact with the hot iron, obelius was crunchier, more aromatic, and more enjoyable than a regular cake. Unlike the austere communion wafer, the secular panis obelius could be flavored and sweetened, creating a kind of cookie. The Romans called these crustula, because of their crispy, crusty texture. Instead of religious iconography, these wafers would often bear family crests, floral decorations, or a simple crosshatch design meant to maximize crispness. And the very same ironsmiths who made communion wafer irons would make crustula irons. Meanwhile, panis obelius was shortened to oublies, which became a name for the cake after about 1200.

Oublies and crustula both spread wherever the culture of Rome- and the Catholic religion- did. Sometime in the middle ages in Germanic-speaking Western Europe, people started calling the cakes wafel, a word meaning “honeycomb”. This referenced both the crosshatch pattern and the sweetness of the cakes. Wafel was the source of our words waffle and wafer, and similar terms replaced Latin oublies in most places.

An 18th century French gaufre iron.

Between the middle ages and today, the waffle/wafer underwent myriad adaptations in the cultures of Europe. In France and Belgium, the word wafel became gaufre. In Spain, the word for wafers was obleas, descended from the Latin oublies. In most places, the cakes maintained their waferlike, crisp texture and round shape: in Italy, the crustula evolved into the pizzelle cookie, from a word meaning “round and flat”. In the Netherlands, sugar syrup was pressed between two wafers, creating the stroopwafel. The idea of sandwiching sweet things between wafers was a good one- the Spanish and French did it too. The Norwegians ate vafler with fruit jam and cardamom, and in Brussels they used a lighter, leavened dough and dusted their gaufres with sugar.

Waffles came to early America with German and Dutch immigrants who favored a leavened, cakelike style. Waffles always seemed festive, given their elaborate decoration, and Americans adopted a kind of party called a “waffle frolic” where the host would provide irons and batter so that guests could make their own waffles, topping them with sugar or fruits. At some point, waffles became seen as a breakfast cake, along with the similar pancake. But waffles also maintained a reputation as a late-night food for revelers, particularly in cities. It was the habit of eating waffles at night that led to the combination of fried chicken and waffles, a meal that became one of the hallmarks of African-American cuisine, and one of the greatest dishes of all time in my opinion.

Meanwhile, successive waves of immigrants brought their waffle cultures with them. Pizzelle-making was a big thing in my Sicilian-American tribe, and each family would have a custom-made iron with the family initials engraved in the center. French immigrants brought crisp gaufres. It was this thin, cookielike waffle style that changed the world when it was curled into a cone and filled with ice cream- creating the iconic waffle cone.

Top, my great-grandmother’s wrought pizzelle iron, bottom, my grandmother’s electric pizzelle iron. Photos courtesy my aunts Claire and Nina.

Then came electricity and the advent of the electric waffle iron. Electric elements are particularly well suited for waffle-making, since you need a steady, stable heat source to get the thick iron plates to just the right temperature. The electric waffle iron became one of the must-have kitchen appliances of the midcentury- it was modern and convenient, and evoked a sense of fun. My mom made waffles as a special weekend breakfast treat, a custom still observed by my brother who is a waffle enthusiast to this day.

An early advertisement for an electric waffle iron, 1928.

And that’s the story of the waffle- a cake that came from ancient Greece via the Romans, became a religious sacrament, an elite dessert, a party food, a late-night supper, and a beloved breakfast tradition. No wonder the Southeast has an entire chain of houses dedicated to them.

I confess this article was a pretext for sharing what I consider to be the best waffle recipe of all time. I learned of it via the blog Smitten Kitchen, who calls them “Essential Raised Waffles”. They got it from the legendary Boston Cooking School cookbook. I have adapted the recipe to my own tastes, cutting down the butter significantly (believe it or not). I find this version perfect- crisp, buttery, and yeasty. The only drawback is you have to plan ahead- I prepare the batter on Saturday night after my kids have gone to bed so that I can make waffles Sunday morning.

Yeasted Waffles

1-2 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 cups milk, slightly warmed (not too hot- just above room temperature)
1/2 stick butter, melted and cooled until lukewarm
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Powdered sugar, syrup or berries for serving

Begin the night before you want waffles. Sprinkle the yeast on the warmed milk and stir to hydrate. Add the butter, salt, and sugar, then whisk in the flour until a batter forms. Cover and let sit overnight on the counter.

The next day, you’ll have a fluffy, powerfully yeasty batter. Whisk in eggs, vanilla extract, and baking soda. Pour batter into a hot waffle iron, bake until brown and crisp. I serve with powdered sugar, fruit, or syrup- there’s so much butter in the waffle you don’t need any extra.