We all know that superlatives have lost whatever meaning they ever had (thanks, internet!). But we can also all agree that waffles are one of the reasons it’s good to be alive. And I’m prepared to stand behind the assertion that the recipe here produces the world’s best waffles.

The batter must be made 12 to 24 hours in advance, which requires thinking, “Do I want the world’s best waffles tomorrow?” (Answer: YES.) If it seems a bit inconvenient at the time, wait until the next morning, when your genius forethought means all you have to do is plug in the waffle-maker, take the batter out of the fridge, stir, and waffles.

The batter must be made ahead of time because it contains yeast. The yeast gives these waffles an almost ethereal lightness — their internal architecture is a honeycomb of air bubbles — and an extra-toasty, almost champagney taste. The batter also contains a full stick of butter, providing unparalleled richness and crispness. Yes, that’s a lot of butter, but hey, you probably won’t make them that often, considering you have to remember that you’re going to want them. Probably.

I first got a version of this recipe from Seattle freelance food writer Jill Lightner. (Her smart tip: Make the batter in a pitcher, so it can be poured right onto the hot waffle iron, no ladle required.) Plenty of variations may be found online, dating back to 1896, from “The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book” by Fannie Farmer. Hers, with puritanical restraint, calls for just 1 tablespoon of melted butter. Some people like it because it’s less rich. To each their own, I suppose.

Some contemporary iterations of the recipe — including Melissa Clark’s and Marion Cunningham’s — advocate for a last-minute addition of a quarter-teaspoon of baking soda, purportedly to make them airier and crispier. I’ve been so extremely happy with the nonbaking-soda version’s level of airy-crispness, I’ve never bothered with it, even though it’d be so easy to try. (Maybe those are the world’s best? Sue me.)

My own innovations are, admittedly, not earth-shattering. Using salted instead of unsalted butter makes for a more complex, beautiful relationship with sweet toppings, to my mind. Reasoning that it might make the waffles even lighter, I started sifting the flour (I also just find using a sifter really satisfying). The addition of bourbon may fall into the imperceptible/ritualistic category, but if you can add bourbon to something in life, why not?

A Belgian waffle maker, thicker than the old-school round ones, arguably allows these waffles to achieve their fullest, fluffiest beauty, though you really can’t go wrong.

When it comes to toppings, the French crepe treatment of powdered sugar and lemon makes a respectfully restrained match for the World’s Best Waffles, letting their lush-but-light nature shine through. Along those lines, honey with squeezes of lime (which you’ll find pancakes topped with in Thailand) is another sweet-and-tart way to centerpiece the waffles’ richness, with the stickiness of the honey contrasting their airy texture.

Your favorite fruit would be grand, or just jam. There’s always Nutella.

And, of course, it’s hard to beat the classic maple syrup (with a little more butter; again, why not?). If you want to get fancy, Lightner swears by Woodinville Whiskey Co.’s barrel-aged maple syrup out of Washington state. Bacon crumbled over the top is never a bad idea.

Warning: If you make these waffles for houseguests, you may have a difficult time getting them to leave. Give them the recipe and, in my experience, they’ll thank you every time you see them, forever.