On the wall of the small California mountain cabin where my grandparents spent their summers hung a long, two-man lumberjack saw. My grandfather and a friend once used it to saw down a tall tree, alternately pushing and pulling until they cut through the thick trunk.

        Some of the wood ended up in the wood-burning stove on which my grandparents cooked most of their meals, though Grandma preferred knots of fir that she wrestled out of dead logs.

        Sometimes she used the stove to heat a pair of cast-iron irons that she'd use on a shirt or two. They didn't have to do things this way. They just liked to. Sometimes, doing things the hard way is more relaxing, more interesting.

        My family, including a changing group of aunts, uncles and cousins, spent summers in another cabin up the road. Certain evenings, after a big family dinner, Grandma would invite one or two of her grandchildren to their place for breakfast the next morning. That meant sourdough waffles.

        The Sierra Nevada sky becomes an intense blue the moment the sun comes up. As a brother or sister or cousin and I walked down the road in the morning, the air already smelled of dust, pine and scrub manzanita. Ground squirrels scurried in front of us.

        We'd sit in a cozy corner of the cabin, and maybe Grandpa would give us hot chocolate in the mugs that stacked to look like a totem pole. (Recently, a bear got in the cabin and ruined a lot of dishes. Every cousin who heard about it asked the same thing: Did it get the totem pole mugs?)

        My grandparents were both psychiatrists, and one of the best things about breakfast was that they would listen to my dreams. They were exceptionally good listeners, rarely saying anything beyond a question or two that would suddenly give the dream some useful significance.

        Then the waffles began to pile up on the plates. The night before, Grandma would have taken her sourdough starter out of the refrigerator, added flour and water and let it rise. In the morning, after saving back some starter for next time, she added eggs and a little baking soda to lighten the waffles even more. She cooked the batter in round waffle irons that heated on top of the stove and flipped to cook both sides.

        The waffles were golden and airy, with a pleasant yeasty tang. You had to eat them quickly, before they lost their impossibly light crispness. Let them sit long, and they became syrup sponges. Which was fine, especially since it was real maple syrup, not the fake stuff that the rest of the family probably was putting on their pancakes up at the other cabin.

        The waffles just kept coming, and there was almost no limit to the number a young girl could eat, especially before a day of hiking and swimming.

        I wish I could say that I had some of my grandmother's sourdough starter and I still made waffles from it. I don't, though a frequently used starter can easily last that long. But I did get a quarter of my genes from her, and memories that are leavening for my life. Those recollections of food are the sensory hook on which so many other pleasant memories hang, and recreating the food is the way I continue to connect with the generations before me.

        I hope my daughters have similar pleasant waffle memories. Though I believe in sometimes doing things the hard way, the wood stove and sourdough are beyond the grasp of my household. But on many Sundays, my husband or I come up with a good approximation with yeast waffles that are started the night before.

        We all like them best done in the Belgian waffle maker my husband bought at a garage sale. They're good with syrup, of course, or strawberries in the spring or peaches in the summer. We like them, too, with a sprinkling of powdered sugar followed with a squeeze of lemon. They are almost as light and crisp as Grandma's.

Yeast Waffles

        1/2 cup warm water (110 degrees)
       1 teaspoon sugar
       1 packet dry yeast
       2 cups warm milk
       4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
        3/4 teaspoon salt
        1/2 cup whole wheat flour and 1 1/2 cups unsifted all-purpose flour (or 2 cups unsifted all-purpose flour)
       2 large eggs
        1/4 teaspoon baking soda

        In a large mixing bowl combine water, sugar and yeast. Stir and let stand 10-20 minutes until mixture bubbles. Add milk, butter, salt and flour. Mix until smooth and blended. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, let stand overnight at room temperature. (Batter will rise and collapse.)

        In the morning, beat in eggs and baking soda and stir until well mixed. The batter will be thin. Bake in a regular or Belgian waffle iron. Makes 4 servings.

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