Over at Easton
there is a new eatery, Belgian Iron Works
which specializes in not just Waffles, nay not even just Dessert Waffles, but delightful Waffles on a Stick. Yes, they take a hot, crispy yet soft waffle, drench it in chocolate or caramel, cover it nuts and glaze, and then mount is on a thin piece of wood (I had no intention of writing porn, but that is sure what this looks like). They then hand you this odd amalgam of sugar and flour impaled on a tongue depressor and expect you to get orgasmic over the result. Now I will fully admit that the actual confection is simply amazing to taste. And when watching my cousin Molly eat a caramel apple waffle, I will admit that the possibility is great that she did actually have an orgasm.
But the greater question is why the hell did they feel the need to mount this food on a stick? In isn't that I am anti-food-on-a-stick; as a matter of fact I think the world would be a better place if more trees died to increase our eating convenience. I would like to see all sorts of wood-mounted foods out there; if I could get my morning coffee mounted on a stick I would, but I don't see how to reheat it in the microwave very well. How about a Big Mac on a stick? Hell, soup on a stick. Or, this is a good one, freeze pudding and put it on a stick. Then get Bill Cosby to pitch it! You could even move into other realms of food related items, like the various religious foodstuffs...do you see where I am going with this? Yep. Chocolate Jesus on a Stick! Nothing like a candy crucifixion to ease your munchies! Or would that be snack-religious? (Respects to Joe for that last pun)
But a gooey, chocolate covered waffle isn't really tailor made for mounting. Let me give you a quick play-by-play of eating one of these delights. Step One: You are handed the waffle. Step Two: You are covered head to foot in sloppy chocolate shit. That about covers it. Perhaps we could come up with a better method of serving these...like 5 gallon buckets to catch all of the goo that comes screaming off in waves the moment someone not in a Belgian Iron Works apron touches the demon possessed thing.
But damn are they good.