When the craving hits, there is no ignoring it. Be it a sweltering day in July or a sleety one in February, we are off to the diner for waffles. Toasted frozen waffles are a poor substitute. Half the pleasure in diner waffles is the diner. Mid-morning is the best time. The early risers, the got-to get-to- work on timers, the quick coffee and donut-to-go goers have come and gone. We are the lingerers, the no planners, the no rush retirees.
The diner, the third since the first one appeared on the site in 1929, is a long, low building and chrome shiny with dark red booths and counter stools. Juke-boxes, although no longer working, display the songs of fifty years ago.
We get a booth, and coffee is poured even before we settle in. The order: Belgium waffles, darkly toasted with bananas and walnuts, a side of bacon, extra crisp, and keep the coffee coming.
daily pleasures
need not the deep pockets
of the rich
just an appetite to enjoy
all that’s on life’s menu
DRIFTING SANDS
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