The butter waffle cookies that I’m not eating

Sometime today these were put on the table along with the remaining fudge and candy from last Friday. They resulted in a significant tremor of temptation. See, I love stroopwafel so much that, when I ran out of the suitcase-full that I brought back from Amsterdam in 2006, I bought an electric pizelle iron and tweaked the recipes I found online until my stroopwafel were as close as I could make them to that ideal. So as you can imagine, anything resembling stroopwafel sends me into paroxysms of gustatory nostalgia.

Didn’t eat none, though.


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