One of my husband’s work colleagues is Dutch. She goes home to the Netherlands pretty often to visit her family and… just be home and stuff. I wish I could do the same. And while having her gone makes things a little crazy at work for my husband, it’s hard for me to be sympathetic. Because I know that when she goes to the Netherlands, she’s going to bring us back a whole entire package of Stroopwaffel. Sorry, Angel (that’s my husband’s name, not a too-sweet nickname), I just love me a stroopwaffel. Or seven.

If you’ve never been to the Netherlands, you’ve probably never tried one of these monstrously delicious cookie confections (but you can probably buy then at Ikea, and I would definitely suggest trying). Angel and I tried them for the first time in the Netherlands. And while marijuana is legal there, I think there should be limits placed on the oh-so-dangerous stroopwaffel. With it’s thin, soft-crisp waffle layers and sticky-gooey-sweet caramel in the middle, it’s insanely good. In Holland, they eat them with tea, balancing a stroopwaffel on top of their steaming cups to soften the cookie and goo-ify the caramel.

Dee-licious.So this post is dedicated to Jeske– Thanks so much. And go home again soon… Angel doesn’t mind picking up the slack!

Now I’m going to go eat two. Even if they ARE 150 calories a piece. Lots of men like big butts, right?

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