No Waffling Here

 

No, it's not perfect. It didn't have to be.

This madness began in 2020.

Well, actually it began in stages in 1968 but that's for a psychiatrist.

So, for our purposes, let's jump ahead to 2020, OK?

Ah yes, the summer of our discontent (aka, "COVID").

Everyone was trying to make the best of things. We had another "new normal" on our hands.

In fact, in an attempt to enjoy our beloved Waffle House, Mom had me drive her and Sean out to Allentown, PA for Father's Day in which we ate breakfast while sitting in her car.

It was Father's Day and it was for me but, believe me, it was also for her. We spent the day just driving around and really not going into too many places since not a lot was open. 

She got out of the car once -- to step into a Wawa. That was it. I needed no further signs that her health was very bad.

I digress.

Later, I noticed that Waffle House was pushing their food mixes on their website. You could order a waffle mix, hashbrowns, grits, and even syrup and coffee to make at home.

For whatever reason (likely money) we never ordered it.

As we hit the fast-forward button I knew I'd check their website occasionally to see if the mixes were still there and they were.

Not too long ago, Sean asked about it and it reminded me to check again.

Move to Black Friday, Cardinal Stadium, in the time before the GYFL Graduation Bowl kicked off.

I was back on the Waffle House website after a reminder that they were holding a Black Friday sale.

And there, available for purchase, on sale, was the bundle of joy.

- Two boxes of waffle mix.

- Two containers of hash browns.

- One bag of grits.

- One bottle of syrup.

Consider whatever deity you choose but I reached for the credit card. The purchase -- a quick strike early Christmas present for both Sean and me -- was on the way.

There was just one thing needed: a waffle iron!

I had one -- a long ago Belgian waffle maker, given to me by Sean's mother. We tried it several months ago with some store-bought waffle mix and the results were lackluster. The iron was done. 

Plus I've always preferred what is actually known as "American" style waffles anyway. That is the fluffier, thinner style served at Waffle Heaven On Earth.

That's what led me to Waffle House in the first place, back in the 70's.

I found an iron on Amazon (just search "Waffle House waffle iron") and it pops right up.

The iron showed up quickly and it waited for waffles. The Waffle House bundle was delayed to the point that I began to wonder what was going on. 

Supply chain issues?

Rampant theft of the heavenly goodies?

Were Rudolph and Santa absconding with our box of deliciousness?

The dry email I received said the order had been delayed but would be forthcoming.

Finally, some three weeks after it had been ordered, the box arrived! There was much rejoicing!

Ah, but we needed supplies. A quick trip to the grocery store and we were ready to go.

It felt like Christmas Day this morning, except I chose jazz for the music and not the caterwauling of some American diva.

Or Maroon 5.

Nothing would deter us ... except me, who can screw up a scrambled egg.

Oh yeah, that's the first thing I had to do. I had to add an egg to get the mix started.

Dutifully, I grabbed an egg and the other supplies, following along with the directions on each box.

The waffle iron warmed up as I mixed it all up.

I carefully did as I was told for the waffles and hash browns. The grits would have to wait. Mom loved her grits so we'll have them in honor of her eventually.

Sean passed through the kitchen and chatted with the cat while Miles Davis sounded out. There is something just perfect about jazz while making a Sunday morning breakfast.

I took a deep breath and began to put the waffle batter on the iron.

Things seemed like they were ... dare I say? ... OK.

The key for us was to keep the iron set to the lightest cooking. We wanted the floppier quality more likely to be found in Hellertown, PA or Fayetteville, NC or Wesley Chapel, FL. 

Or whatever Waffle House location we might be in. Shockingly, I've never listed them all.

I pulled the first waffle off the iron. It looked OK. It even smelled OK.

I made more (there would be leftovers). 

I turned to the hash browns.

I stepped -- briefly -- into Sean's room and called out.

"POUR TWO SCATTERED, COVERED..."

He knew I was imitating the language and cadence of a Waffle House employee, relaying instructions to those doing the cooking.

Soon it was done.

I'll spare you the tension. Shockingly, an order of Waffle House, delivered to us for us to create at home, was about as good as it could possibly be. 

I can't stress enough that I fully expected it to be disappointing. No, not because of them but because of me. I'd mix something wrong or burn something or it would just not be right.

But it all worked just fine. Sean was happy and, honestly, so was I.

It didn't have to match. Honestly, that wouldn't be ideal because going to the restaurant is part of the experience.

Nobody gets in fights or throws chairs at the hours when we visit. So Sean didn't need to hit me in the head.

It's a peaceful, almost friendly vibe when I go.

And this was a nice home edition of the Waffle House game.

Let's consider this store #0055. The first location in New England. (No, not really)

Next time, we need to create the full All-Star Special by adding ham or bacon or sausage, some scrambled eggs and toast.

But for today, I couldn't possibly be happier.