An Ode to the Gaufres

Yesterday we were still a little jet lagged, but 13 hours of sleep had certainly done away with most of it. The weather was no longer as incredible as the day before, though it was still quite warm despite the looming dark clouds.

When I came down in the morning, most everyone had already eaten, so I made myself a piece of toast with nutella on one part, and that marvelous butter on the other. To tell the truth, the butter was even better than the incredibly addictive nutella. Its depth of flavor and rich creaminess coats the tongue and delights endlessly. I fixed myself a cup of tea, and stuck a waffle in the toaster. Now, I don’t want you thinking that this is just any waffle. In fact, I’m going to call them by their French name: “gaufre” because though it is the same shape, it is in a completely different field from the kind you get in America. It is so sweet, buttery and rich with eggs it is more like eating a toasted piece of buttery crispy cake. She was delighted when she saw me enjoying mine, and set about to make “plus de pâte pour les gaufres”. I sat in the kitchen with my cup of tea watching her make the batter. She began by mixing the eggs with the sugar, then melting butter and adding that, then a bit of milk, and finally the flour and baking soda. She let the mixture sit for a good while, and then began to cook them. There is now a great old round Tupperware container of waffles in the kitchen, ready and waiting to be eaten.