Stroopwaffles. You have probably never heard of them, I
know. But they have been given to us over the last year as gifts from
Amsterdam. Presented by my younger son, I have always welcomed them. Delivered
to our home, I savored every last bite. A recent trip to Amsterdam put me in a
much closer (and deadlier) proximity to these syrup waffles. Even the strong
are sometimes tempted beyond their abilities to resist, and so it was with me.
There is nothing wrong with this round, sweet, caramel and cinnamon crunchy snack. Unavailable in the U.S., they provide an alternative to Oreos and chocolate chips; therein lies my problem. At home, I constrict my intake of cookies, I love them too well. There is something about hydrogenated fat that just agrees with my taste buds. My wife knows this and does not buy cookies from the store. She does, however, bake them from time to time, but always in small controlled batches. Temptation fades when you aren’t looking it square in the face (or package as the case may be).
Our week-long stay in Amsterdam was all the sweeter because a package of Stroopwaffles awaited each of us on our pillows as we arrived. This is where it gets embarrassing. There are 10 cookies in each package. They are three inches round. Therefore each package represents approximately thirty square inches of crunchy goodness. I ate my entire package in about fifteen minutes--in bed--after the lights were out so my wife would not know. There were a total of four packages given to our family. That equals forty Stroopwaffles. They were gone in a matter of days. My family kept saying that they could not figure out where they all went. I said very little.
There was the local market just four quick blocks away. Since Stroopwaffles were such a bargain at 1.79 Euros apiece a couple more packs were purchased. It is a shame that no one else got to enjoy this treat as much as I did. All in all I guess that I consumed about sixty square inches of Stroopwaffles. Unbelievable.
The wages of sin are death. Not resisting a known temptation produces scars on both soul and our psyche. In my case it also impacted my waistline, the fit of my clothes and the clogs in my circulatory system! Nine pounds in seven days, how it is possible?
My conclusions are depressing. Given the opportunity, I will damage myself even when I know the results. When I'm tempted, I chose to run toward, not away from my temptress. My immediate gratification was more important then the realization that it would take weeks to shed the results of my moral failure!
Fortunately for me, Stroopwaffles are not available in our country. I won't be in the way of temptation again until Christmas when I expect my next delivery (approximately 165 days from now). I also benefit from the academic realization that falling has a cost. While I can now wax eloquent about my insights, I still struggle with the waist of my favorite pants. I also realize that the best solution to temptation is to have friends or family around to recognize the falling. I know my wife would have jumped in and saved me from myself, if only I hadn’t turned the lights out and quickly devoured my midnight snacks.