Of course as soon as I decide my blog-break is over, Trevor’s laptop and only connection to dial-up internet, craps out. Erg. So here I am– literally six miles down the road with my car wedged between Mountain Ranch’s lone store and the realty office utilizing the free wifi. Pretty sad that the itsy bitsy town of Mountain Ranch is more technologically advanced than my house.
In any case, I had to get more eggs after using everything in the fridge making these puppies:
Stroopwafel is the best thing to happen to the world since indoor plumbing. That might not be the best example, but stroopwafel is a major accomplishment for mankind.
I don’t remember where I had my first stroopwafel, but I’m sure it had something to do with going to work one day with my mom in Oakland. For some reason I spent a lot of days at work with my mom. I know she never let me skip school so we must have had many school holidays then. Oakland has a high crime-rate, a football team, and really great food. Only one of which I care about. And as a kid, nothing perks up a day sitting in a big office building with your mom like going out for lunch and snacks.
Stroopwafel tastes like a… well, a waffle-cookie with a brown sugar syrup in sandwiched between the two layers that has a bit of maple and molasses taste. You know you have the perfect stroopwafel when it is thin and crisp when cool and the syrup inside melts a bit when warmed on the top of a mug of tea.