I'm not a guy that waffles.
I've never eaten them, because I don't like foods that have been driven over by large vehicles with weird tire treads.
Sure, there's a utilitarian benefit to the waffle tread. Each little pocket is a convenient syrup holder, kind of like little caramilks, but with the top open. And with a tough outer skin, the waffle doesn't absorb the syrup too quickly. Nice.
There's a lot to be said for that food feature. Take your average pancake, put syrup on it, and the enjoyment clock is ticking. Either the syrup slides right off, and you're eating something akin to urea formaldehyde bra pads, or you add more and more and the pancake becomes entirely soaked, like a bath mat pregnant with spent water and in need of a mat leave.
It's those darn tire treads. I have a flat policy of not eating food that's been the victim of a hit and run, and I'm not just including road kill here.
One time I made an egg-white, himalayan pink salt and corn starch omelette and backed my CR-V onto it, to see if it would add a bit of frisson to my breakfast. What a mess, plus I almost ran over two children playing on the driveway. The backup camera was covered in yoke, which I hadn't completely discarded. I despise yoke, and I suppose that might also explain why the omelette left me wanting.
Mostly, though, it was the tire treads.
Anyway, I'm not a waffle guy.
