There was a time in my life before Monte Cristo waffles, and a time after. Before, the Monte Cristo sandwich and the waffle existed as two separate, much-loved brunch entities. One satisfied certain pre-noon desires for savory, the other for syrup-drenched sweet. After, they were one.
One glorious stack of crispy golden waffles stuffed with the ham and cheese of a Monte Cristo, then dusted with powdered sugar and topped with spoonfuls of raspberry sauce. Oh, yes. There is no going back.
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