Blackberry Sour Cream Waffles

A couple of months ago I was invited to dinner at the house of my friends Lavinia and Deni (you may remember them from this post here). Deni, who is Hungarian, made us a delicious Hungarian meal (a preview if you will for the trip we were to take to Budapest not long after, where we ate stupendously). He prepared a cauliflower and carrot soup, roast chicken and potatoes with a side of pickles, and a dessert made with chestnuts and whipped cream, plus offered us p├ílinka, Hungary's traditional fruit brandy, in all different flavors. But back to that first course -- when it came time to eat the cauliflower soup, Deni disappeared briefly in to the kitchen and reappeared, like magic, with a container in his hand. “Sour cream, to top the soup?”

I nearly gasped.

Sour cream is used quite a bit in American cuisine, as a topping for Tex Mex enchiladas, tacos, or chili, in dips, or, most importantly, in lots of American baking where it lends a certain tenderness, richness and tangy-ness, improving every baked good it touches. It can be used in cheesecakes, muffins, cakes, pie crusts, pie fillings, and even scones and biscuits. And sour cream, you see, was supposed to be one of those ingredients like buttermilk, cheddar cheese, okra, sweetened shredded coconut, Graham crackers, and (not mini) milk chocolate chips, or rather, things I had never seen in Italy and had always known to be unavailable here. Sighting sour cream in Rome was the culinary equivalent of spotting a comet that passes once every 100-something years, or an animal that was thought to have been extinct for ages, but had reappeared. What was it doing here?!

“Where’d you get that?!” I demanded.

“What, the sour cream? Pam, the supermarket,” they answered. “Not all of the Pams have them, but some do. So do you want some?”

Yes, yes I did, thank you very much.

A couple of months after that, in a small supermarket not even close to where I live, I, like magic, stumbled upon sour cream (panna acida in Italian) again in the dairy aisle, hidden among the heavy cream and butter. It was the same brand that Deni and Lavinia had found at Pam. I seized the occasion – who knows when it would arise again?! – and grabbed two containers, hurried home, and subsequently made these Blueberry Pie Bars and then Blackberry Sour Cream Waffles.

Even in the heat of the Roman summer I still find breakfast doable – the morning is the time before the heat has really sunk its teeth in, and before the thought of eating anything above room temperature is unbearable. Plus the waffle iron, unlike the oven or the stove, doesn't heat the kitchen up, and having procured my beloved sour cream and picked up some lovely looking blackberries, I decided to strike while the (waffle) iron was hot and whip up these waffles. These are tender and fluffy thanks to all the sour cream, cinnamon scented to boot, studded with tart sapphire-like blackberries and scrumptious when served with maple syrup and extra berries on top. I loved them and I think you will too. 

A couple of notes: You could substitute blueberries or raspberries for the blackberries here if you'd like. If you don't have whole wheat flour, you can use just all-purpose flour no problem. If you can't find sour cream where you are, I'm sorry! but you can substitute plain full-fat yogurt with good results. The amount of blackberries may seem relatively small, but as I learned, too many blackberries that get subsequently squished in the waffle iron and make the waffles tricky to remove from the waffle iron in one whole waffle piece. If you don't care about presentation, and want your waffles extra blackberry-y, then go ahead and add more. You can keep the waffles warm on a baking sheet in a 200 degree oven as you cook the others. Finally, feel free to add a little lemon zest here instead of the cinnamon, if you want Blackberry Lemon Waffles.

Looking for other waffle recipes? I have these Banana Pecan Waffles, these Savory Prosciutto and Cheese Waffles with a Fried Egg, and these ever so perfect Classic Waffles. Prefer pancakes to waffles? I've got these Cornmeal Blueberry Pancakes, these Pumpkin Pancakes, these Classic Pancakes, and these Savory Squash Pancakes. Prefer french toast to pancakes or waffles? I've got Pumpkin French Toast and these Individual Baked French Toasts. Want other blackberry recipes? I've also got this Blackberry Cheesecake Galette


3 tablespoons (42 grams) butter, melted and cooled 
3/4 cup (140 grams) blackberries
5 tablespoons (50 grams) sugar, divided
1 cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour
3/4 cup (98 grams) whole wheat flour (see comment in Notes)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 eggs
3/4 cup (180 grams) milk
1 cup (224 grams) sour cream

Place the blackberries in a small bowl and sprinkle with 2 tablespoons of the sugar; mix together and set aside. 
In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, sour cream, melted butter, and vanilla. In another separate medium bowl combine the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon and the remaining 3 tablespoons of sugar.
Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients until just combined. Add the blackberries and stir once or twice to incorporate them. Preheat the waffle iron according to the manufacturer's instructions (mine only takes a few minutes to heat up).

Once the waffle iron is hot brush with extra melted butter so your waffles don't stick. Using a ladle, distribute the batter evenly over the waffle iron surface, keeping in mind that the batter will spread a little when you close the waffle iron. Close the iron and let the waffles cook for about 4-5 minutes, or until golden brown. Use a fork to carefully remove the waffle from the oven and slide it on to a plate. Repeat with the remaining batter to make more waffles. Serve your Blackberry Sour Cream Waffles with maple syrup, extra blackberries, and if you want to do as I did, a glass of blood orange juice. Makes 4 large waffles.

Recipe adapted from

Peach Cobbler

One of my dearest frolleagues (friend and colleague) and an ardent follower of this blog once pointed out that the best way to eat seasonal fruit and veg was essentially just leaving them as is. For example, if tomatoes are their peak in the Summer, just slice them and eat them with a little salt, pepper, and olive oil, at most  most, and if cherries are at their best, he reasoned, it would be best to eat them fresh, no need to stem and pit and bake them in to a pie (he was skeptical when I told him I had taken to roasting cherries for Cherry and Goat Cheese Crostini -- in hindsight, I can sort of see his point). In his book, the less one does, the better, and I certainly agree -- let cherry-ness or the tomato-ness or the blueberry-ness shine when they're at their best, no need to confuse the natural flavor with other ones. 

And yet.

If you're of the same idea then, I guess you wouldn't want to take a bunch of seasonal, at-their-best peaches, slice them, toss them with a little lemon juice, and bake them until even juicier and sweeter, now would you? You would probably also be against topping the aforementioned peaches with a cake-y, buttery, topping, the perfect vehicle to absorb all those lovely peach juices and add a little texture contrast, just barely sweet in order to let the peaches shine. I'd go as far as to presume as well then that serving this warm out of the oven with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream would be a bad idea too, right? You would thus probably not be a fan of the resulting Peach Cobbler, and would most certainly have no problem turning down a serving of it for dessert, correct?!


I've come to conclude that sometimes, just sometimes, less isn't necessarily always more, and that occasionally, a few little touches here and there can actually take something that is already great to other levels of greatness, albeit slightly fancier, more elaborate ones. Peach Cobbler (a dessert from the American south, if you're not familiar) exemplifies this, taking already delicious summer-y peaches and dressing them up a little, elevating them from simple summer snack to perfect summer dessert. This recipe (from my culinary bible, Bon Appetit) is just what a cobbler should be -- its simple and straightforward, peach-centric and downright delicious, plus it was a cinch to make and was in the oven before I knew it. Because when you have a dessert this good, the last thing you want to do is have to wait too long to eat it, right? 

A couple of notes: You could probably add a handful of raspberries or blueberries or strawberries to this cobbler to make it a Peach Berry Cobbler. Feel free to add a little cinnamon to the peaches or topping if you want too. Serve this warm with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream and you won't regret it, or eat the leftovers cold out of the fridge like my sister and I did -- its surprisingly refreshing when its over 100 degrees out. 

Looking for other Summer fruit desserts? I've got this Blueberry Pie, these Blueberry Pie Bars, this Plum Cobbler with Cinnamon Biscuits, this Summer Berry Cake, these Strawberry Chocolate Shortcakes, this Blackberry Cheesecake Galette, and these Raspberry and Blueberry Shortcakes. Want other recipes with peaches? I've got this Peach Raspberry Buckle and this salad with Peaches, Burrata, and Arugula. For good measure while we're on the topic of cobblers -- this savory Cherry Tomato Cobbler with Gruyere Biscuits.


6 large peaches, cut into wedges (not too thick or too thin -- see my photos below)
1/4 cup (50 grams) sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon cornstarch

1 cup (130 grams) flour
1/2 cup (100 grams) sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 stick (12 tablespoons, or 168 grams) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/4 cup (59ml) boiling water

Preheat oven to 425 Fahrenheit (215 degrees Celsius).

In a medium bowl, toss the peaches together with the sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch. Pour the peaches in to a lightly buttered 2-qt. baking dish. Bake the peaches in the oven for about 10 minutes to give them a head start.
Stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Blend in butter with your fingertips or a pastry blender until mixture resembles sand (or, if its super hot out where you are like it was in Rome when I made this, the resulting mixture will look more like a dough as the butter will melt faster than you can blend it in). Stir in the water until just combined -- the mixture should look like a batter now.
When the 10 minutes are up, remove the peaches from the oven. Drop spoonfuls of topping over them, then use a spoon to spread the mixture evenly over the peaches. Put your cobbler back in the oven and bake until the topping is golden brown, about 25 minutes. 
Let the cobbler cool for at least half an hour before eating to let the juices and peaches set a bit. Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Serves 4-6.

Recipe from