love waffles.

When I was a little girl and stayed the night at my grandmother’s, each night she would ask, “Well, what do you want for breakfast in the morning?”

Each night I answered, “Waffles!” then scampered away to sleep so waffles would come all the more quickly in the morning.

Nothing can beat your grandmother’s waffles, light and fluffy, saturated with butter and drenched in sweet maple syrup.

Waffles encompass the joy of living. They are the “joi d-vie.”

Though my grandmother is far away, and it’s been years since I’ve scampered anywhere, waffles are still in my heart, if not in my stomach.

Somewhere during my transition to college I realized I don’t really like breakfast foods; the smell of mass breakfasts makes me want to lose mine.

I hate pancakes. I hate sausage, and I hate the thought of them all swimming in syrup. I’d rather die. But I still love the thought of waffles.

There is something comforting in the precision it takes to fill each tiny square with just the right amount of syrup.

It becomes a work of skill and genius to streak melting butter across the top of the waffle without disturbing the syrup resting beneath.

Waffle House, conveniently located at 1121 Cooktown Rd., and Huddle House, also conveniently located at 501 N Frontage Rd. E, are two of Ruston’s prime waffle locations.

For the college student sick of the “early to bed,” town, these breakfast establishments are open until the darkest of night, then into the wee hours, then until morning, and into the day when the cycle starts all over again.

Students can go to these places to study or shoot the breeze with Ruston’s wiser generations.

With any luck, students may hear stories of the “friendly” times, when it was safe to hitch-hike across the country and everyone was transient, shared over a fresh breakfast to his or her liking and a hot cup of strong coffee.

If you squint your eyes and tilt your head a little to the left, it almost looks like Utopia.

Don’t look for me in the breakfast joints, because I won’t be there.

Eggos, though a poor substitute for Grandma’s waffles, will be calling me home. And, contrary to popular belief, you don’t need me to party.

Everyone is encouraged to frequent these Houses, the closest form of all-night entertainment this sleepy college town has to offer.

Eat waffles for me.

 

Sharon is a senior journalism major from Natchitoches and serves as associate managing editor for The Tech Talk. E-mail comments to sem010@latech.edu.