Tales from the Waffle Iron

My mother made the most magical waffles in the world, light and fluffy! However, her waffle magnificence was cruelly cut short by her own flesh and blood….

Dramatic opening huh? My family lived in Colorado and my grandparents lived in Wisconsin. My Grandma and Grandpa were retired so they decided to jump in their car and drive the three or four days to come and visit us. My Mom and Dad had to work a couple of days during Grandma & Grandpa’s visit. Now it’s important to understand my Grandparents were very very hard working Germans. Even when they weren’t working they where doing something. So one day when everyone was gone and my Grandpa was left unsupervised he found my Mom’s well-seasoned waffle iron. So he busted out the rags and steel wool and cleaned every nook and cranny.

Later that afternoon he proudly displayed the gleaming instrument to my Mom who immediately started to cry. Fortunately, he took her tears as “tears of joy.” Needless to say, this was before the days of non-stick cookware. Her properly seasoned waffle iron never again produced a waffle that fell from the machine. So no more waffles, but my Mom did the right thing, she never told her father the consequences of his well-intentioned deed.

After it was cleaned, this was the result.

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