Boffo Waffle

I broke into a box of frozen golden waffles the other day and paused with reverent reflection. It seems I have enjoyed these sweet breakfast treats since I can remember. But unlike a fine wine critic, as a true waffle aficionado, I have never examined their texture, taste, appearance, and smell in detail.

Now that is a true shame since in most of the circles that I run with, baked goods ALWAYS outrank leftover, bottled ethanol forcibly extracted from fermented fruit. I mean let’s be honest here, have you ever really had an awful waffle – NO you haven’t! But most adults willingly volunteer and revel in their worst experiences with a nasty bottle of vile vino.

So I set out to compare what makes a frozen waffle so special. I tried the big round ones, the little round ones, the connected pair of rectangles, and the cavernous crenulations of the mighty Belgian. In fact I sampled every kind of waffle geometry known to man and even a few enlightened women. In short I did my research and I have the waistline to prove it. Please indulge me with a bit of poetic license for my summary review:

Oh frozen waffle so pale and yellow, your pocked mark exterior beckons me ’hello’

How can I resist your sumptuous ardor; when spying you alone, intoxicates more

I shall toast all shades , darkness and light; and then I will feast from daybreak to night

Syrupy sweet, melted tubs of butter; sugar powdered whispers, ‘YES – let’s have another’

Regardless thy name, the same FLAVOR at minimum; Orignial, Homestyle, Buttermilk and Cinnamon

Why must you taste so impossibly good; for my gut keeps expanding beyond where it should.

So take heed dear friends, tale true of said waffle; not a bad one among them - all were quite BOFFO!