Poffertjes Please

Each year in August, my favorite week roles around to the sounds of merry-go-rounds, the colors of brightly adorned booths, and the smells of all things greasy, fried, and butter laden. Fair week brings with it all my guilty pleasures -- elephant ears, corn on the cob, curly fries, mini doughnuts, funnel cakes, and my all time love – poffertjes. Hold on, what? You have never had poffertjes at a Fair? Well apparently you have yet to attend the Lynden based Northwest Washington Fair. For those in the dark, poffertjes are a Dutch specialty – tiny, pillow like pancakes, and the reason I have spent the entire last week in the gym. So it was that last Monday I found myself partaking in the gluttony of Fair life.

When Dan and I arrived, we loosened up our belts and guiltily found the entrance to the Fair which we knew to be closest to the Poffertjes and then beelined it to booth as though our lives depended on it. We watched as the tiny puffed pancakes were flipped in their silver dollar sized compartments on the griddle. As they turned golden brown, they were quickly transferred to a plate, sprinkled with powdered sugar and topped with a sugary butter topping. All the while I stood in a Homer Simpson like stance, drooling only slightly, as my camera bag hung neglected around my back. Apparently I may be a photo fanatic, but one thing stands in my way of taking pictures: Poffertjes. I left having completely forgotten to take any photos and only realized my mistake once back at home. Shame on me. I must find someone who makes these wondrous creations here in Seattle so that I may document my love affair and succumb to my shortcomings.

Once the poffertjes experience was out of the way Dan and I were really at a loss for how to amuse ourselves. But low and behold who did we stumble across sitting on the bench of a dunk tank? My sister Brianna, all sopping wet and feisty from too many plunges in the pool. Well of course I had to get my revenge on her -- she is my sister after all. So I enlisted the help of Dan (who has a much better aim and arm than I) and down she went -- all smiles of course. With the effective torture of my sister out of the way I was fairly satisfied with my day at that Fair.

But our day wasn’t over yet, we still had to go explore the animal barns where we admired some of the cutest baby goats, sheep, and cows. I oohed and ahhed over their cuteness for what seemed like most of the afternoon. I was always that child growing up who had every imaginable pet possible – newts, rats, parakeets, gerbils. So of course walking through the rabbit and poultry barns I could be found begging Dan to let me have a pet chicken. Ever so gently, so as not to crush my hopes and dreams, he reminded me that we live in an apartment, in the city, and was I prepared to handle that? I guess not. But what about rabbit? The cats we have already would love a pet rabbit. But sadly, Dan said no, and my plans of owning a farm in the city were unrealized.

We finished off the day by touring the rides (I was not about to spend a months salary to enjoy a few spins on the ferris wheel) and then made our way back past the poffertjes – heads held high as we proceeded to exit the Fair. This being the first year in history that I have not ate my way through a million calories of these sugary coated goodies I felt quite proud – for the short term. Along the two hour drive home I began to regret this decision. It’s only once a year, right? Next time I am taking the poffertjes by storm, no regrets, no guilt.