Am I really about to waste your time with a blog post topic so ridiculous? Yes. Yes, I am. Because sometimes you commit to blogging daily for a month and sometimes you sit down to the laptop without a single idea and the only bit of inspiration is the waffle in front of you. (And you’re the one reading it, you silly blog addict you) Wait, waffles? Isn’t this supposed to be about pancakes? I’ll get there.
Once upon a time from the moment of my birth until the age of 19 I. did. not. like. pancakes. I know. It’s so embarrassing. Shameful, really, against everything I now stand for (and something that would shock and astound my college roommates). It was one of those foods that I probably didn’t actually not like, I just had it in my head that I didn’t like it, so I never ate it, ya know? Like most human beings and tomatos.
So then, summer of 2008, I had this friend and his name was Gardner, and I was hanging out at his dad’s house in Salt Lake really late at night (which is the perfect time for pancakes) and his dad (whose name I can’t remember even though I should since he obviously helped me reach a really influential culinary milestone in my life) made us pancakes. On a plug-in griddle with blueberry Krusteaz brand pancake mix (the all superior who’s who of pancake mixes) and I was soooo on cloud 9 and probably ate like 7.
And then I spent the rest of 2008 and all of 2009 compensating for the pancake deprivation I had inflicted on myself for 19 long years. And don’t worry, I ate more than enough to make up for lost time.
May and June of 2009 I spent living in Guatemala and no one at all warned me that Central America’s idea of sweets was not going to even close to cut it for the kind of sweet tooth I have. Their candy is like those random unidentified colored hard-candy you’d find at the bottom of your Halloween stash pillow case. That’s as good as it gets. And if I’d known, I would have filled my suitcase with sour patch kids and swedish fish instead of those silly non-essential toiletry items and, you know, clothing. Anyway, the only thing I could find with enough sweetness in it in that whole dang country was . . . maple syrup. And so I purchased that along with
a bag many bags of blueberry Krusteaz brand pancake mix and ate me a lot of pancakes those two months. Ev-ry. day. Whether I needed a celebratory meal or consolation of the heaviest kind, it always just seemed right, ya know? We had a good thing going.
My birthday 2010, in lieu of an actual cake, my roommates presented me with a huge pile of pancakes with candles sticking out of it all over the place which was way better than an actual cake and does anyone have a picture of that? because I would really love one
And then sometime in 2011, after my marriage and the gift of some kind someone of a waffle-iron, I had an epiphany one day. THE BEST PART OF PANCAKES ARE THE EDGES AND WAFFLES ARE JUST LIKE PANCAKES EXCEPT THEY ARE ALL EDGES!!
And now I eat waffles.