The Taste of Fire

Belgian Waffles, drenched with maple syrup. I don’t recall having seen or eaten waffles when I visited Belgium in the 1980s. I do remember, however, the breakfast buffet in the hotel outside of Bruges. The shellfish were apparently tainted, and I experienced intense stomach pains for the next three days, living in shifts between bed and bathroom. The multitude of Belgian beers left positive memories, though, as well as the fact that my son was probably conceived there. My wife (at the time – we’re now divorced) was also stricken with Belgo-intestinal syndrome, proving that wonderful things can still happen under strenuous circumstances.

My son Marcus was born in Landstuhl Army Hospital, Germany, on June 20, 1990. In his early years, his favorite foods were Cheez-its, fresh-baked bread and waffles. He also took a liking to a little heat on the tongue as a baby. One evening, I fed him while his mother was somewhere like Paris, Prague or Cardiff. He didn’t really like the squished squash or beans or whatever crap I was trying to thrust into his mouth. No – He wanted a bite of the pizza I was eating. He was in a high chair, not walking yet, but I thought – Why not? I gave him the point and let him munch. He enjoyed the novelty, but suddenly his face turned red and he shuddered. I had forgotten about the Tabasco sauce I had sprinkled on the slice.

He survived. A few seconds later, he asked for more, and thereafter there were no more aftershocks. To this day, he enjoys the taste of fire. We recently devoured a pile of wings ominously labeled “Sudden Death,” the meatiest and hottest to be found in Mankato, MN, at Big Dog Sports Café. This has nothing to do with proving one’s resistance to pain. It’s just another way of appreciating the full spectrum of what the world has to offer. I also believe capsaicin, the fiery element in hot chili peppers, has medicinal properties. It’s sure to make your blood flow and will clear your sinuses. Eat enough hot peppers, and you’ll never worry about constipation. No more bland food, either. There are many varieties of peppers and the sauces made from them, all adding their unique flavor to the culinary realm. They can be used in any meal, including, come to think of it, waffles.

Waffles. Where did they come from, and how did they get that name? Upon googling, an immense universe of waffles opened up before me. Never had I suspected the depth and history of this seemingly humble breakfast selection. The word is of Germanic origin, and is closely related to “web,” “weave” and the German “Wabe,” which means “honeycomb.” Also, it comes directly from variants of “wafer,” which were the cookies we know of, stamped with various designs beginning in the Middle Ages. Someone eventually discovered they could make a larger, gridded version, which would hold substances like melted butter and syrup in its neat little cells. Maybe it was a monk, who saw a microcosm of his monastery in the form. A Belgian monk, perhaps.

I found a box of Triscuits in one of the kitchen cabinets. They look kind of like waffles, and should go well with California red I just opened. That and some pepper jack will aptly show me the way to the beginning of 2010 six hours from now. The rat terrier is begging for some cheese… maybe I should give her some. But wait – it has jalapeño peppers in it, so she’ll have to wait for the bland doggy treats. I don’t want to see what happens when a dog develops a taste for fire.

Happy New Year to you all!