There's nothing quite like the stinging terror one feels as you realize the meal you are constructing for guests has totally disintigrated right before your eyes. Literally, disintigrated. Alex and I had a good non-gf friend over for brunch this weekend, a good friend who happened to bring along his own good non-gf friend whom we had never met before. After a plethora of mimosas and general giddyness it became apparent that our slightly experimental eggless banana waffles were...well, flacid. They did that thing where you open the lid of the waffle maker and each side puts on a game of tug-of-war, both plates getting half of your now-shriveled mass of semi-cooked batter. Awesome.
