Not too long after I moved to Los Angeles, yet before I was diagnosed with Celiac, I couldn’t help but notice a restaurant not too far from my house called, “The Waffle.” Not The Waffle House (whole other connotation there) but simply, The Waffle. The Waffle did not disappoint when I first slid into a booth and ordered up a flight of wee waffles with everything from herbs and goat cheese to lox and creme fraiche. Ohhh, how I loved The Waffle and all its waffly goodness.
So it was like a dagger through my heart every time I drove past The Waffle after I realized we were no more.
That is, until I discovered my new favorite LA blog, Gluten Freeways. This lady [correction: GFreeways is a dude!] changed my life when she announced that The Waffle offers up gluten-free waffles as well! Holy hell. Why didn’t I make a call? I just assumed she and I were through, and didn’t even give her an explanation for my sudden absence, nor did I give her an opportunity to convince me that it didn’t have to be this way.
The Waffle and I are back together and it looks like this:
Pecan toasted waffle that’s all gluten-free, and 100% rad. If I’d been even slightly aware of what gluten-free actually was before I was diagnosed, I might have noticed the menu that looks like this:
Honestly, people. Ask before you assume. This has been my lesson for the week. One which I’m sure I will promptly forget. Still, Roscoe’s — I’m heading your way next. Feeling good.