Here's the rundown.
Sometime Last Week:
We decide that we've both gained a bit of waffle weight, and join a health club. Waffle Guy is suddenly a fitness fanatic and The Provider of Delicious Breakfasts.
Saturday Morning:
Waffle Guy wakes up hellbent on a delicious waffle breakfast. Together with his eldest daughter and her friend, he uses our the Caveman Recipe to create a flat, dense, flavorless waffle that offends the senses of all who taste it. Thankfully, I am picking up my children at this time and remain blissfully ignorant of Bad Wafflery.
Waffle Guy does not give up. On a whim, he adds 3 tablespoons of brownulated light brown sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla, and 1 3/4 cups of milk. He puts it on the waffle iron. Magic! Together with the Junior Waffle Chefs, he has created the best waffles we've consumed since Belgium.
He calls me to relay the good news, and to encourage me to
show up quickly for breakfast. I eat several delicious waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, but it's okay because we've been working out.
Saturday Afternoon:
We are invited to a send-off party for a friend who is being deployed to Iraq, and we realize it is necessary to bring a snack to share.
Rummaging through the snack-foods section of Cub Foods, we stumble upon Little Pepi's Pizzelle Waffle Cookies. He picks them up. "But we're here for hummus and pita chips," I remind him.
"And waffle cookies," he counters.
We go to the party and play with some tiny dogs, but I can see on his face that he's dreaming about waffles.
Sunday Morning:
We attend my daughter's baseball championship tournament. My Guy fetches doughnuts for the lot of us. They are a terribly disappointing breakfast item, now that we know what's possible.
Monday Morning:
The phone rings. "You'll never guess what I found out!" trumpets Waffle Guy.
From the tone of his voice, I surmise that he's cured cancer, won the lottery, and inherited an island since I've last spoken with him. "Whadduya know?" I say.
"So...we were using the wrong kind of pearl sugar before. We want Belgian pearl sugar, not Swedish pearl sugar. And you can get it online. Five bucks for eight ounces," he says. "And that's not all! There's a place in Florida and a place in North Carolina where you can get sugar waffles. And they're cheap!"
It is clear why I love him.
Tonight:
I arrive at my Guy's house after a long, irritating day and make myself some pasta for dinner. He's got plans for dessert.
Pulling a tube of sugar cookie dough from the refrigerator, he preheats the waffle maker. "Should we try it?" he says, nibbling on some dough.
We've discussed it before, the idea that Liege waffle batter resembles cookie dough. We've even agreed that we must one day try baking cookie dough in the waffle maker. On one hand, my belly is full of pasta, and it's getting late. But on the other hand...
I resolve to work out harder tomorrow.
The cookie dough experiment, as it turns out, is a horrible failure. Ah, well. At least we've got Little Pepi's.
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