Breakfast Geometry

Whoever left two toasted waffle squares cooling on a wire rack clearly didn't grasp their architectural potential. I hopped up onto the barstool and hauled a half-empty jar of amber honey across the polished counter. Instead of doing something banal like eating, I wedged the two waffles upright against each other like a tiny, crispy roof over an inverted ceramic ramekin. Then, with a calculated nudge of my paw, I tipped a single wooden toothpick into the honey jar and let one sticky golden droplet bridge the two grids right at the apex. A magnificent, edible suspension monument that defies the boring concept of breakfast.