Last Sunday, after a soccer tournament in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, I asked my hungry 16-year-old son where he wanted to eat.
"How about Waffle House?" I said hopefully.
"That sounds good," he said. "And I know what I want: A waffle, scrambled eggs and sausage. What are you getting?"
"Well, I want a ham-and-cheese omelet with jalapenos, double hash browns - smothered and covered - and wheat toast with grape jelly," I said.
Mark KennedyYum. Yum.
We sounded like Grandpa Jones on "Hee Haw."
It's a measure of my family's devotion to Waffle House that we can make ourselves salivate just by reciting food items from the menu.
But the affection goes deeper. I also love Waffle House culture: the head-down efficiency of the short-order cooks, the syrupy-sweet waitresses, the blue-collar customers sitting at the counter (even the ones with hacking coughs), the ubiquitous jukeboxes, the college kids who always seem to be in high spirits (wink, wink).
The first Waffle House was built in suburban Atlanta in 1955. There are about 2,100 stores, mostly clustered in the Southeast. The Chattanooga area has about a dozen locations, so you are never far from a plate of hash browns and a splash of black coffee.
An out-of-town reporter covering the Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia, once marveled that there seemed to be a yellow Waffle House sign on every corner there. That's not far from the truth.
Waffle Houses have been in the news lately because FEMA, the government disaster-relief agency, reportedly uses something they call the "Waffle House Index" to judge the severity of a hurricane. Because Waffle House locations are notoriously slow to close before a storm - they stock up on food and deploy generators - they provide a good barometer of conditions on the ground. Add "thumbing their noses at hurricanes" to the many reasons I love Waffle House.
Here are some other things I love.
» Cash transactions. I love the fact that until a few years ago, most Waffle Houses operated on a cash-only basis. Spending cash for food is an old-school transaction that feels good. Cash for grub - very basic.
» Hash browns. Waffles may be the signature of this chain, but hash-brown potatoes are the secret sauce. It's no coincidence that Waffle Houses are densely packed through Appalachia and the mid-South, the Scots-Irish belt, where starch is our favorite nutrient. If I were starting the Waffle House chain from scratch, I'd call it "Hash Brown Town."
» Jukeboxes. When our two sons were little, they'd beg for quarters to play the jukeboxes, although they didn't know any of the songs. Sharing a song with other customers seems out of place in today's ear-bud world, but it still feels cool to me.
» Counter stools. I love the fact that you can eat at a Waffle House alone and not feel isolated. Sitting at the counter watching the cook at work and listening to the waitress chattering is oddly calming. I call it hillbilly hibachi.
» Regulars. It's cool to watch the wait staff interact with customers on a first-name basis. The less conversation, the deeper the bond. Show me a customer who doesn't have to submit a drink order at Waffle house, and I'll show you a regular customer.
» Laid-back customers. I hate - hate, hate - listening to customers at fancy restaurants submit crazy convoluted orders that barely resemble the published plates. Worse is hearing them complain when their whims aren't met. As a Waffle House customer, I feel like I'm part of the team.
As I write, it's almost lunchtime and I'm feeling a hankering for hash browns.
Yes, I reckon I'll be a Waffle House customer until my ashes are scattered or my bones are covered.
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645.