I have installed a photograph of waffles at the peak of this post, because waffles are much on my mind of late. I shall explain…

Tomorrow I embark on an ordeal that falls to my lot once every five years. This ordeal involves a procedure whose name I’ve always refused to use in this space. Suffice it to say that it’s a humiliating medical procedure, an examination, which demands certain dietary changes as one prepares. Two days of a low-fiber diet, followed by one day (that would be Sunday) of no solid food at all, and then, on Monday, truth will be sought in my inward parts.

I know that the procedure itself is likely to be okay. As a man who’s never indulged in recreational drugs (I sailed through the swinging sixties and the sexy seventies like Mr. Magoo through a construction site, quite oblivious) I can’t deny looking forward to the relaxants I’ll be getting in preparation. I think the last time I relaxed naturally was around 1957.

But be that as it may, I was not looking forward to two days of low-fiber pablum (is pablum low fiber? I’ve never tried it). But as I studied the list of acceptable foods, I was delighted to discover that waffles (as well as butter and syrup) are kosher.

And that, as the poet said, has made all the difference. For a man who’s always trying to limit his caloric intake, the wonderful waffle has to be a rare treat. They are high in calories, and everything  you’re likely to garnish them with is pretty lofty as well.

But tomorrow and Saturday will be waffle days for this patient. And any day with waffles is okay by me, gastronomically speaking. This reduces the worst of my ordeal to the Sunday fast, which I must endure, even as my going hence.

According to Wikipedia, the word “waffle” derives from a Frankish word “wafla,” meaning honeycomb or cake.

Waffles seem to be the consequence of the convergence of two culinary traditions. The ancient Greeks cooked flat cakes the called “obelios” between hot plates. Europeans, in the middle ages, cooked cakes between hot irons called “fer à hostiesʺ  or ʺhostieijzers” (communion wafer irons) and moule à oublies (wafer irons) in the 9^th-10^th Centuries (Vikings, conceivably, could have gotten a taste). Around the 16^th Century, the Belgians invented the Belgian waffle (which is somewhat different from what we Americans call Belgian waffles – and that should surprise nobody). Personally, I favor the conventional, plebeian American waffle, the kind you get by following the instructions on the Bisquick box.

Back in Scandinavia, waffles are usually a little sweeter than our American ones, and are baked on irons formed like converging heart shapes and eaten as a sweet with the midday meal or supper, often topped by strawberries and whipped cream. Also very nice, but the American variety is one of my comfort foods.

And I shall be requiring some comfort.