Waffles and peanut butter remind me of my dad. (But not together.)
As a little girl, I woke up early on the weekends, usually before the sun rose and the birds started singing. I padded softly down the stairs and shuffled across the carpet to sit next to Daddy on the sofa. Sometimes I crawled into his lap and pretended to read the newspaper too.
After he drained his coffee cup, he’d make me breakfast if Mom was still jogging. I always asked for “Crazy Drink,” a mix of OJ, apple juice, and fizzy (carbonated) water, and I crossed my fingers for a waffle to go with it.
We only ate frozen Eggos (until we moved to the new house and rediscovered Mom’s ancient waffle iron in the packing process). But Daddy toasted them perfectly—no burned bits around the edges that occasionally appeared on Mom’s Eggo days—and he spread butter into every single square. (Mom usually rushed, leaving the outer holes bare.) After a few squirts of Aunt Jemima syrup, Daddy cut my waffle into 2×2-square pieces, and I slowly chewed each one, saving the most buttery bite for last.
Then at lunchtime, I’d wander in from the swings in our backyard and sit at the table for a peanut butter sandwich on red bread. (Mom bought Orowheat whole wheat bread, which had a red label. My name was much easier to say!) I only wanted peanut butter. No jelly, no jam, no bananas, no honey. Just plain creamy peanut butter.
Because Daddy ate crunchy PB, he stuck the knife into my jar first to keep any runaway peanut bits from contaminating my sandwich. He dug out a really big scoop, slathering it at least ½” thick across the bread. It was enough to glue my mouth shut, but I didn’t care. that was the way he made his sandwich too, and I wanted to be just like my daddy.
Both of those memories came rushing back into my mind while making these mini pies. As I filled each (pie shell) hole with a Daddy-sized amount of peanut butter filling, I smiled and nearly called him on the phone to say hi. But great minds think alike, and he actually beat me to it! After chatting for a bit, I sunk my teeth into the fudgy chocolate cookie dough crust and licked the sweet peanut butter from my fingers.
Daddy definitely would’ve approved!