What My Brief Waffle Obsession Taught Me About Desire
Sometimes the only way to achieve peace is by giving in to your desire.
I had always been happy being a one-waffle girl until a friend and I had lunch at Nono’s in Podium earlier this month.
We got a serving each of the restaurant’s famous Waffles and Chicken, which was basically a single waffle broken into four quarters and then served with a piece of crispy boneless chicken fillet.
All of a sudden, one waffle didn’t seem enough—even if the chicken it came with was huge.
I think my fixation on the waffle began when I realized how different it was from the waffles served in other restaurants and cafes. It was like a croissant, which meant it was flaky and fluffy at the same time. And it wasn’t dry at all, which was usually my issue with other waffles.
I would have ordered more of that waffle, but since we were also splitting a serving of pasta then, I decided against it. I also assumed I’d eventually forget about my craving, but I was wrong. In fact, I kept thinking about that waffle and how much I wanted to devour two, three, or maybe even four pieces of it in one sitting.
Days passed, but it remained on my mind, its picture popping into my head at random moments. It even got to a point where I’d fantasize about the very same waffle while eating something else. It was then that I realized my waffle obsession was getting worse. Indeed, something had to be done about it.
So, I went to Nono’s in Legaspi Village, which is the closest branch to our place. I ordered their Homestyle Waffles, which apparently comprised two pieces of waffles, and some bacon on the side. I also had a cup of hot long black coffee, which I thought went perfectly with the food.
I was so excited, but my enthusiasm about the whole thing didn’t last that long. When it was time for me to start munching on the second waffle on my plate, I realized how overwhelmed I already was.
Finishing the second waffle no longer seemed like a great idea, so I stopped eating altogether. Then, I had my remaining food wrapped so I could take it home.
The experience was so anticlimactic, I know. Even I had a hard time believing that I’d fixated so much on that waffle only to find out that I couldn’t have more than a piece of it in one sitting.
But of course, there was also a part of me that said it was fine, and that it was probably a good thing health-wise. Waffles could be sinful, anyway, especially when served with lots of butter, syrup, and whipped cream on the side.
And, maybe, the whole experience was meant to teach me a lesson, particularly about desire and how it can haunt you for days, convincing you that something’s wrong and the only way to fix it is by giving in. It doesn’t guarantee anything, though.
Sometimes, when you finally surrender, you are confronted by the fact that although what you’ve been wanting is good, it is actually not as great as you imagined it to be.
This makes you regretful for a bit, sure, even making you realize that perhaps, some desires just aren’t worth chasing. But at the same time, there’s a voice inside your head that begins to comfort you, telling you that, at least, you’ve gotten it over with. You can now forget about it—for real. You can now be at peace. Not much was at stake, anyway.