Yesterday, in honour of Mothers Day, I hauled out my old pizelli maker, which has has been around for about twenty years. The original recipe that came with it is long lost, but with the aid of the internet I came across a suitable replacement.
I had never heard of pizelli until I hired a contractor to renovate the basement of our house in Deep Cove. A few days into the renovation he showed up with a stack of freshly baked pizelli, compliments of his Italian wife. The delicate and light waffles were an instant hit to both me and my two young daughters. This immediately called for a shopping trip to find a pizelli maker, and in the Italian section of Hastings Street, I was successful.
Kitchen gadgets come and go, but my pizelli maker has remained. It has cranked-out dozens after dozens of waffles; they're always a hit.
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