Nothing is sweeter than having waffles for brunch. The aroma of sugar and butter, the sizzling sound as the batter cooks, the dark crispy burnt edges, the tiny squares that hold melted butter and maple syrup so well, and the slightly chewy texture when I bite down. My friend Lori has perfected her recipe, using buckwheat and tapioca flour.
On the table–blueberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, chicken and apple sausages and potato salad–all there to compliment the waffles. Sitting in her colorful kitchen, for once I’m not interested in squeezing out the secret recipe from my friend. The urge is to eat and to eat only, until not a speck is left on the plate.
