Every croffle starts as a croissant.
Keep scrolling and we'll un-crunch this one, then build it back up the way our kitchen does, every order.
Butter, folded into flaky layers.
It begins as a proper crescent croissant: soft, buttery and airy, the kind you could happily eat as it is. We don't stop there.
Into a blazing waffle iron.
The iron clamps down. The layers fuse, the sugars caramelise and the grid bites deep. Crisp outside, still tender inside.
Drizzled, crumbled, served warm.
Biscoff butter, Nutella, kunafa, white chocolate. Every ridge catches the drizzle and every pocket holds the crumbs.
