NOT teddy grahams.

What did you do this summer? While you were being glamorous – tanning at the beach, riding roller coasters or traveling the world – I was here. In good ‘ol P-town. Doing what you ask? SCHOOL. School, school, and more school. Call me crazy, but I actually (gasp) enjoy school. Like, learning and I..we have this thing. An affair of sorts. So, while choosing to be the world’s biggest nerd at BYU, I did miss out on many traditional “summer activities,” (no tan on this bod’, thank you very much). BUT, that’s not to say that I didn’t have a blast. ‘Cause I did.

Part of all the fun-ness of my summer consisted of exploring the Provo that I didn’t really get to enjoy my freshman year (the whole ‘don’t have a car and too busy dating a pre-missionary’ thing). And in doing so, I discovered one of my all-time favorite places. The Awful Waffle. And I’m obsessed. As I’ll explain more in later posts, I am a major breakfast person. Breakfast is the best meal of the day, as far as Kasee is concerned (and Kasee is going to stop this awkward ‘talking in the third person’ deal now). And waffles…yeah. I’m going to marry waffles.

Essentially tucked in a tiny hole south of campus, the Awful Waffle charmed its way into my heart (I even wrote an article about it for class!) with twinkle lights and sugar-coma-goodness (disregard the fact that they’ve now moved out of their precious locale – STILL a fan). Soon, I became a regular. And whether it was 10 in the morning, or 11 at night, it never failed to satisfy. It softened the detriments of broken hearts, big exams, and even offered joy to a boring week.


Here it is: liege waffle. bananas. cream cheese. speculoos.

What is speculoos, you ask?


Good question. I, in fact, wondered it myself. So I asked the lovely employees at the Waffle, to which they answered, “It’s kind of like melted teddy grahams.”

Hmmm. IDEA.

Cue a day later, standing in frustration over the stove as my roommate and I tried to melt these alleged teddy grahams. I was going to have speculoos on my own food, dangit. But to no avail. Those blasted cookies WOULD NOT MELT. (Is there a scientific principle I’m not aware of here?) Nothing worked – not butter, not milk. Believe me, I tried it all. Pathetic, yes. But desperate I was.

So I went to the all-knowing Google. Trader Joe’s, it said. Go to Trader Joes, and you will find your precious speculoos (NOT, in fact, like teddy grahams one bit! A European spread rather, made from biscoff and gingerbread cookies, but I’ll forgive the misinformation – how was that employee supposed to know I would go to the extremes of attempting to melt my own teddy grahams?!) Luckily, I live in Virginia. Where there ARE Trader Joe’s. So on my 11 day break from school, I raided the store for speculoos, three jars of which traveled home in my suitcase back to Provo. …yes. That happened.

Now this wonderful spread adorns every waffle, every crepe and pancake (among other things I’m too embarrassed to admit) that finds its way out of my kitchen.

Food is adventurous, eh?


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