On the way to Mount Rainier, there is a Waffle Stick stand. Don’t know what that is? Neither did we! But the Beloved has had the itch to take our kids to Mt. Rainier all summer and today, we finally pulled it off (hence the second late post in a week. Insert something about better late than never, stopping and smelling roses…). There will be time to talk about how completely awesome it was and how I have the most fun quail on the planet in another post (someone aptly observed to me today that my kids could have fun from inside a paper bag. It is completely true), but today, we need to talk waffles. The stand on the side of the road served nothing but hot and toasty waffles on skewers, with as many toppings as you please (strawberries, chocolate syrup and whipped cream, thank you very much), to be eaten al fresco under yellow and white striped awnings, or –if you are a family of quail with a daddy who is magnetically drawn to water– down on the large smooth rocks by the river. It was the perfect end to day of identifying flowers, pondering birds, and playing dead on the ground when the park rangers came by and we were not on the trail.
This Sabbath breakfast is, alas, not served on sticks (though hey — you do you, boo), but it is a family favorite nonetheless and I generally have to double it, because we really like waffles. Like, a lot. If you have leftovers, cook up all the batter and then you can toast them later, smear Nutella on them, and have the world’s happiest snack.
I cannot decide if we have known each other long enough for me to try and convince you that nothing says Sabbath breakfast like homemade fried chicken with your waffles… I tell you what. Make this the one time you comment. Do I bare my deep-fried, wannabe Southern soul to you and talk about pickle juice marinades and the Fry Daddy, or do I just shrug and suggest that the McDonald’s drive through is probably cool and all on a Sunday morning? I’m gonna need a little feedback before I get all crazy vulnerable here.
Go make your peeps some waffles, stick something in the comments while they cook, and then go get yourself to worship and sing loudly and gladly, because you belong to the infinite personal God who created a world with mountains, waffles, and fried chicken.
Sing with a fat heart.