It seems that not everyone is coming to my pancake party, which is weird because I sent out the invites on scented paper and everything. “There must be some mistake,” I said to the waitress with pleading eyes, “there is no pancake option on this menu!” She pointed sadly at the ‘weekend specials’ blackboard and told me they were saved for special occasions, like Sundays. I was forced to order – nay, bullied into ordering – the waffles with chocolate syrup and icecream.
I love the way this looks for two reasons: firstly, because it reminds me of a Peter Combe song (“what’s black? what’s black? and what’s white? what’s white? and red all over? red all over? ev-er-ee-day? everyday?“); and secondly because it looks a bit like a Valentine, and I am nothing if not a
dreadful terrific romantic. I love the way that heart-shaped strawberry is just perched up there, waiting for someone to love it.
I’ll tell you a secret though: this was the waffle tower after I rebuilt it. It was majestic when it arrived at the table, but in the summer morning air the layers of icecream quickly melted and the whole thing came a-cropper. That strawberry was hidden under a layer of waffle and icecream. I thought I’d missed my opportunity to photograph it and would have to order another one, but Sandi helped me reassemble it and it was nearly as good as new. CLOSE CALL!
Then I gave it a little shove with my fork and my face and it looked like this:
Honestly, I haven’t eaten waffles since I was a little kid, and if this is what they’re supposed to taste like then I am completely unqualified to judge them. But because the name of the website is, of course, judging your breakfast, I will have a crack at it.
When I ordered, in my brain the waffles were the size of my plate. They were hot, soft and dripping in syrup. So yes, more or less a waffle shaped pancake. I’m almost certain that’s how they were in the mid-90s when I last ate them. Am I just remembering pancakes and changing their shape in my imagination? I only ask because these waffles were the opposite of all of that, but I don’t want to be a bitch and say “God, they were so awful!” if that’s really what waffles are supposed to be like. Therefore, take what I say next with a grain of salt.
These waffles were like bricks made of diamonds. I can’t figure out why they were so hard – they were cold, so they weren’t burned, but they weren’t frozen either. The only conclusion I can reach is that they were petrified. Petrified waffles from the last Ice Age.
What can you really say about chocolate syrup from a bottle, hazelnuts from a bag and icecream from a tub? It was all fine. The strawberry was the highlight of the meal.
$15, so it’s lucky I broke my gold tooth on my breakfast and was able to hock it for cash.