Evolution Of A Man

Let me tell y’all something very important about me. I loves me a good waffle! Anytime I can get my hands on summa that sweet, breakfasty goodness I will. I eat way more waffles a month than I should…I just can’t help myself. Plain, with fruit, or decadent as a mutha…just (*sings*) put it in my mouth [pause], and I’m one very happy negro. Unfortunately, regardless of preparation, waffles are bread. And bread makes you fat. So the result of all this waffle-eating is, yep, you guessed it…the fat-fetus. And, um, I’m not here for no whole damn wheat waffle, so don’t even try it. Sit down.

If I’m not making them myself, there are two places I usually frequent for waffles. Max Brenner (the chocolate man) makes these “After Party Belgium Waffles” that make me forget I’m single EVERY time I eat them. Then, when I’m feeling frugal [read: cheap], I enjoy the waffles at the Waverly Diner.  Monday, after recovering from my New Years Day celebration, I decided to treat myself to a last-time-for-a-long-time Max Brenner Waffle plate. Sadly, there was a 45-minute wait for a table–which I wasn’t having AT ALL–so I, for the first time, looked to Foursquare to suggest a place for waffles. Per what seemed like a wonderful tip: “I love the waffles here. Worth visiting here all the way from lower Manhattan just for this place,” I found myself on the Upper West Side walking into Cafe Lalo:

As soon as I opened the door to the small but homely restaurant, I was hit with the sweet smells of baked goods and coffee, and the sounds of old jazz music and vibrant conversation. The walls were decorated with both modern and vintage French-themed posters, which made this lover of all things tourist-related feel like I was on vacation- a warm and welcomed departure from the cyclical familiarity of my Manhattan dining experiences.

One look at the vast assortment of cakes, pies, crossaints and other baked goods behind the counter, and I knew that I was home. This meal was about to be gooood! Without adult supervision or a pauper’s income I would have been in some serious trouble…fat-fetus be damned. But my wallet wasn’t havin’ it, and, furthermore, I was on a mission. Waffles! No time for dessert.

I barely bothered with the menu, knowing full well what I wanted; however, I perused through it nonetheless. They had a bunch of delicious-sounding entrees including a French “Kiss” Quiche and a Bulgarian Country Torte; but I’m not about that life. I was all about the Authentic Belgian Waffle with strawberries and whipped cream. I ordered and asked for bacon on the side; to which my waitress smiled and replied “no meat.” What? No bacon?? *sigh.* After forcing my side-eye into retreat, I smiled back and asked for hot chocolate instead. Bacon, chocolate…fried sex, liquid sex. Either way, my mouth would be happy [pause, again]. I sipped on my hot chocolate and made busy on my iPhone, taking in the general splendor of my surroundings, until this was placed in front of me.

The woman next to me, staring at my plate, looked at me and said, “you’re a man after my own heart.” I looked at her and said, “please don’t judge me for what’s about to happen.” Then I dug in! Y’all…that waffle was SO. DAMN. GOOD! It was sweet, with a hint of spice, without being overwhelmingly doughy. And the strawberries and cream just took it to another level of mouthgasmic yumminess. It tasted like the birth of Jesus. Glorious!

Needless to say, I’ll be revisiting Cafe Lalo. For the waffle, and to have a go at the desert bar:

I strongly suggest you do the same.

Cafe Lalo is located at 201 W. 83rd Street in Manhattan.
It’s notable to mention there is a minimum credit card charge of $25.