"Hey Tim," you called down the hall.
Your long-time Dutch boyfriend, Tim Morgens, responded with a grunt, and strode into your shared bedroom where you were lying on the bed, tapping on your laptop.
You jumped up and hugged him, then sat back down. "Don't grunt, it's gross and weird."
He gave you a one-armed hug back and ignored your command, instead saying, "I bought you something at the shops,"
You lit up. You adored presents. "Really? What?"
"Stroopwafelen." He said with a superior air.
"So, what are Stroopwafels?"
Tim plopped down on the bed. "Maybe I grunt becasue you don't let me get a word in edgeways? Anyway, it's Stroopwafelen. One Stroopwafel, many Strooopwafelen."
You straightened out the sheets that had been crumpled by his fall. "Yes, but what are they? How do you eat them?"
Tim gave you a mock-patronizing look. "My dear ____, one does not simply eat a Stroopwafel. One must savour it."
Punching him on the shoulder, you responded, "That's not telling me what they are, or how to eat them. You're just saying "one" instead of "you", which makes you sound pretentious and stuck up." You tried to punch him again, but he caught your hand.
"I am hurt, ____. That is a very nasty thing to say. I don't think that I'll give you any of my delicious, heavenly Stroopwafelen now," he told you, raising an eyebrow.
"Omygosh-sorry-please-can-I-have-the-Stroopwafel-now-wait-what-is-it." You ran your words together as you apologised, asked a question and made a grab for the bag hanging off Tim's arm, all in one breath.
"Ah-ah-ah!" He swang the bag out of the way. "Now, a Stroopwafel is a delicious Dutch treat, made from two thin waffles and a layer of caramel. If you-"
A motion outside the window caught your eye, and you interrupted your boyfriend's spiel to impart some crucial information. "Hey, Tim? The neighbours' cat is attacking your tulips again."
"Oh, sweet mother of-" he broke off and shot out of the room. A second later, you saw him out of the window, shooing the large cat away from his prized tulips. You heard several muffled and unrepeatable yelled words filtering in from the closed window, and giggled.
"Now," you said to yourself, "how to go about eating Stroopwafels- no, Stroopwafelen!" You corrected yourself. Then you pulled your laptop closer to you and typed into the search bar, "How to eat a Stroopwafel". Clicking on a result, you scanned the text.
2) After having been placed on top of hot beverage until it goes all melty (recommended though I have never seen a Dutch person do it. They are impatient).
3) Dip in said hot beverage because you are impatient (more traditional)
4) Another from the packet! (If you are not conscious about devil spawn carbohydrates and diabetes)
5) In microwave for like two seconds (not recommended because more mess, less coffee and not traditional but is fast)
6) Creatively incorporated into sweet dishes like ice cream (again, not Dutch and potential sugar overload)"
"Mmhmm." He took another sip, then set you down on the countertop. You noticed him dunking something in his coffee, and your eyes narrowed.
"Timothy Morgens, that had better not be my Stroopwafel." You threatened.
He glanced up. "Well you see, ____, I was the one who bought them, so technically they're mine." He removed the sweet from his mug and took a bite.
You were aghast. "Oi!" You said intelligently. "You said that they were for me!"
Tim raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"
"Yes!" you reached out over the bench and grabbed your coffee and another Stroopwafel from the packet, then dunked the treat in your drink, before taking a rather violent bite.
You froze, irritation forgotten. "Oh my god! Yum! This is the best treat-dessert-y-thing ever!" you exclaimed, taking another bite.
"You said that when I made poffertjes." Tim remarked, looking a little miffed.
"Oh, yeah. Those were some good poffertjes. Ok, correction: Stroopowafelen are the best store-bought-treat-dessert-y-thing ever!" you mumbled around a mouthful.
Tim chuckled and set his coffee down, then wrapped his arms around you in a big hug. "Good. You're adorable, y'know that?"
You put your coffee and treat on the bench, then hugged him back and smiled into his shoulder. "So are you."
"No I'm not, I'm a guy. Guys can't be adorable."
"Well, you are. You're almost as sweet as my Stroopwafel." You picked it up and took a bite while still hugging him.