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Nothing in this world is so powerful as an idea whose time has come. At least, that's what Victor Hugo liked to think. And that's exactly how Michel Chalon feels when it comes to waffles. He's as crazy about 'em now as he was 10 years ago, and he gets excited all over again every time somebody tries one of his golden, sugar-crusted sweet cakes, hot off the griddle.

Around these parts Chalon has become known simply as 'the waffle guy.' "I'll sit down in the movie theater and someone sitting next to me will say, 'Hey, aren't you the waffle guy?' Or, I'll be driving down the freeway hauling one of my vending carts and someone will pull up beside me, nodding and giving me a thumbs up," he laughingly motions.

Chances are you might have run into the waffle guy if you've strolled down Bonifacio Street at the Old Monterey Farmers Market, the street that becomes known as Baker's Alley on Tuesday evenings downtown, or at Del Monte Shopping Center at his usual gig in the center of the plaza by the fountain. And chances are even better that if you accepted one of the tasty sample teasers that Chalon's helper busily proffers on this transient stream of shoppers, you're hooked, line and sinker, and queue up behind the sign that reads Le Waf.

Most of the time, that will be Chalon center-stage, energetically flipping the smoking hot cast-iron griddles with dual lever action pulls that he instinctively uses to somersault the batter over, just at the right time, so that sandwiched inside, the dough bakes evenly over the propane heat source. Once you observe the whole choreography--the puffy yeast dough plops, sizzles and trips the light fantastic from the iron into a paper sleeve for take-away--you begin to realize what Le Waf loyalists already know: This is waffle as art.

That realization first came to Chalon when, as a marketing and computerization consultant working in Belgium, he found himself contentedly consuming what would become a waffle-a-day habit dispensed from one of the many boutiques. This was where you could indulge in the waffle of your wildest dreams.

"Over there, it's a part of the culture," Chalon explains, "just like in France, where we are known for our crepes. The kind that I do here are known as Liege, the Belgian city they're named after." But don't mistake them for the ubiquitous 'leggo-my- egg-o' variety, as he is quick to point out. Even though the ingredients seem simple enough--eggs, milk, margarine, flour, sugar, yeast--it's getting everything just right that makes the distinguishing mark.

Start with the sugar. Chalon uses pearl sugar, imported from Europe, with a resistance to heat and humidity which means that with a higher melting point, it begins breaking down only during the baking process, giving the finished product its characteristic caramelized crust. The heavy, state-of-the-art, seasoned cast-iron griddles do the rest of the magic.

So much so that even while Chalon was taking his Masters degree at Monterey Institute of International Studies, a lot of the time he was thinking about waffles. With an expired visa after graduation, he figured he'd have to return to Europe.

Then something incredible happened: Chalon's number came up in the citizenship lottery. And for more than a year, he's been realizing his dream. "It's my customers who did it," he corrects. "I love them! They're the ones who have made my dream come true."