I officially celebrated my thirtieth birthday 2 weeks back and while I didn’t ask for anything, I got some great gifts none the less. One of my friends had just returned from a trip to Belgium and after reading my waffle article, decided bringing me back some official Belgium grade waffles would be a good joke gift. We all laughed about it and I set them aside for the time being as my birthday party was a Pirate Pizza hosted pizza party, not a waffle party. Despite a newly implemented “NO Waffles On Weekdays” rule, I decided to eat those waffles last week and let me tell you; they were no joke.
I’m not one for calling out people or major corporations through this blog (though Bill is more than happy to do so). However, after eating Jacquet Bakery Waffles and saturating my taste buds with a level of wholesome goodness that could only be birthed from the succulent womb of flavor commonly referred to as Belgium, I think some people need to reevaluate whether or not they should stay in the waffle game. Where as most waffles are considered food, Jacquet waffles are an experience, something to savor and then gush about incessantly for years to come. This comes with a word of caution because after eating these waffles, international traveling, extreme sports and raising a family will seem considerably less fulfilling.
It really makes me second guess whether my parents were actually good parents or not. I used to think they did a great job but I have to wonder why it took 30 years for me to eat a waffle of this caliber? Would it have been that hard to have them imported a few times a year for special events like birthdays, Christmas or Easter? Perhaps I’d have gotten better grades if an “A” was rewarded with some European sweetness as opposed to a pat on the back and a firm handshake.
Sure, these waffles contributed 100% to my sudden need for a nap, but it was probably the coziest nap I’d ever taken. It was like the waffles created an internal blanket, which coupled with the external blanket I had wrapped around me, created a shell of protection that even a bullet couldn’t penetrate (metaphorically speaking of course). While sleeping, I actually dreamed of floating down a waffle filled river in a boat made out of waffles. I didn’t want to wake up and if it wasn’t for my daily chores, I probably wouldn’t have.
I could go on and on about these waffles but I won’t; this is Model Husband not Waffles Weekly (copyright 2013). Also, I will do my best not to post about waffles for quite some time.