There are few things in life that can pull me out of bed before the boys start jumping on it—but the smell of waffles crisping in the iron? That’ll do it every time. Well, that and coffee. But this past weekend, I stumbled across something that took my Saturday breakfast game to an entirely new (and probably slightly sinful) level: Nutella stuffed waffles. Yes, you read that right—STUFFED. Not spread, not swirled, not “drizzled aesthetically for the ‘gram.” Full-on molten chocolate hiding inside crispy golden waffle pockets.
I found the recipe on Drizzld during my usual “meal planning” session—which, if I’m being honest, means scrolling food blogs while pretending I’m being productive. The pictures were basically food art. Waffles oozing warm Nutella, melting just enough to make you forget your diet, your laundry, and maybe your name. I could practically hear Anthony screaming, “CHOCOLATE!” from the other room. So obviously, I had to make them.
The first attempt, though? A disaster. I didn’t realize you’re supposed to freeze little spoonfuls of Nutella before stuffing them in the batter. I just plopped that gooey goodness right in and closed the waffle iron like a fool. What came out looked like… if a s’more and a waffle had a fight. The kitchen smelled heavenly, but I was scraping burnt chocolate out of the iron with a butter knife while Nico stood there asking, “So… are they ready yet?”
Once I got my act together (and cleaned the iron), I did it the right way. Freeze spoonfuls of Nutella overnight. Pour a little batter in the waffle iron, pop a frozen Nutella disk in the middle, then pour a bit more batter on top. Close it up and wait. You’ll know it’s ready when you start smelling that warm, toasty sweetness that makes your stomach growl and your patience disappear.
When I finally opened the waffle iron and saw those perfect golden squares, I almost cried. Okay, maybe not cried—but I did do a tiny kitchen dance. The first bite? Unreal. Crispy edges, soft inside, and that gooey Nutella center that hits you like a hug from someone who really gets you.
Rex took one bite and just gave me that look—you know, the one that says “this might be better than my grill skills, but I’ll never admit it.” Nico was completely silent, which is saying something. And Anthony… well, his face looked like a chocolate painting by the end. The table was covered in syrup fingerprints and Nutella streaks, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
There’s something about waffles that feels a little fancy, even when you’re standing in your kitchen in mismatched pajamas. Maybe it’s the grid pattern—so structured and grown-up looking. But the moment that Nutella starts oozing out, all that order goes out the window. It’s pure, messy joy.
I made a double batch the next time because those boys inhaled them. And here’s a secret: they freeze really well. Pop them in the toaster on a school morning, and boom—suddenly you’re the fun mom who serves chocolate for breakfast. I may or may not have eaten one cold straight from the fridge later that night. No regrets.
The next time you need a win—or just want to see your kids’ eyes go wide with happiness—make these waffles. Freeze the Nutella. Don’t skip that part, trust me. Then pour yourself a coffee, breathe in that sweet smell, and enjoy watching your family’s sugar-fueled smiles.
By the end of breakfast, our kitchen looked like a Nutella bomb went off, but my heart felt full. Sticky fingers, chocolate faces, Rex still pretending he’s not having a second one—it was a perfect kind of chaos. The kind that makes you pause, take a mental picture, and whisper to yourself, yep, this is the good stuff.