I require fuel, and that fuel must take a delicious form.
As a writer and college instructor, I have certain expectations placed upon me. I’m supposed to wear tweed (it’s itchy), drive a Prius (I’m too tall), and eschew all forms of sports (I love sports. I also love playing sports, which is a double no-no). I’m also remarkably opportunistic about where I drink my coffee. Case in point, one of my favorite restaurants?
Seriously, if you haven’t been, get thee hence!
I recently acquired this button, and it says a lot about what I’m willing to admit in order to fit in as a writer:
I do drink coffee, and the time of day actually has nothing to do with my consumption. I think at this point in my life, caffeine and I have reached a peaceable kind of accord– it agrees to make me alert in the morning, and my aging body assures me that I won’t know if I have insomnia from coffee or muscle pain due to running. Voila! Problem solved.
As I’ve mentioned often, baked things are an important part of my life. I bake. My wife bakes. My family bakes, and we all agree: you cannot go wrong with pie.
That beauty is a peach pie, but darn near any fruit will do. Let’s get real– the crust makes it great.
Now, onto waffles (and griddle cakes of all nature). I have a maxim, and that is, “If Uncle Buck would make it, then it’s probably big enough.”
And to clarify: Waffles and pancakes are, well, cakes. So, why wouldn’t you consider pie for breakfast? I have it regularly, and people come up to me all the time and say,”Do you really think you should be wearing such a small shirt?” Obviously, it’s doing great things for my body if people want me to take my shirt off.
And speaking of shirts:
I can use SCIENCE to prove that pie and waffles should be a part of your life.
So. Why aren’t you baking?
Also, why aren’t you reading about waffles and magic? Hmm?
Waffles. Witches. Wonder. Halfway Dead. Get it here.
Until next time!