I asked for a waffle, and a young lady got one out of what seemed to be a freezer unit and stuck it in the oven while she asked me what I wanted on it. I was feeling particularly gluttonous that day, so I asked for dulce de leche and Nutella -- the most delicious way to punish your pancreas for whatever crime it may have committed. The waffle took a while to be hot and ready, but once it was, she smothered the thing like there was no tomorrow. No, seriously, judging by the sheer amount of Nutella and dulce she deployed, I don't think she was much expecting me to live to see the sun rise another day. My most conservative estimate is one of 200 grams of each topping on it! She was pretty dry and nonconversational throughout, but not particularly rude. Surprisingly, a frozen waffle with a motherload of sweet on it tasted criminally good, and the waffle managed to have the best fresh-made texture possible. The only aesthetically minded touch was some powder sugar on top of it all, but I liked the waffle (became so fond of living on the edge) so much that I had plans to come back the morning after.
This time I asked for strawberries and Nutella, hoping for something less pancreas-exerting and perhaps a bit prettier. The service was equally bare-bones, but the waffle was just as poorly conceived: frozen, reheated, with Nutella and strawberry jam (not actual strawberries, as I had hoped) sitting on it. It actually didn't taste as good as the previous one, but, again, for something so half-assed, it was surprisingly good. I thoroughly enjoyed it in the most self-hating way possible. read more