Waffle House at 8:00AM is a microcosm of America.
The counter and the booths are full. You’ve got the elderly Marine Corp veteran eating alone, looking through the window at memories of rice fields and triple canopy jungles. You’ve got the two debutante wannabes eating in a booth. Four brothers are laughing and eating a breakfast before work. A young family sits quietly in a booth, the child coloring in a coloring book. The child says “Yes, ma’am, please” when asked if she want’s some orange juice.
There are five amazing individuals working like mad, making it look easy, and quickly meeting the breakfast needs of packed house of hungry strangers, strangers who are treated like family.
You never have to ask for more coffee. The hash-browns are always perfect. Did you know Waffle House serves more T-bone steaks than anyone else? I’m not sure I believe that. The two cooks are working smoothly and efficiently to crank out breakfast after breakfast on a small griddle. They turn out 25 breakfasts in the less time than it takes me to cook 2 eggs on a similar griddle at home. All at once they are cooking 4 orders of hash-browns, two orders of sausage, some ham, toasting a bun, and cooking scrambled eggs, over easy eggs and an omelet. The guy beside me just ordered steak and eggs. Chalk up another T-bone, I guess.
Before each order of hash-browns hit the griddle service, first a small ladel of oil is laid down. The little scoop of potatoes goes right on top of the oil. Orders are called out to the cooks a they come in. It is apparent that to cook at Waffle House you have to be pretty damn sharp, and exceedingly energetic. Despite the frantic pace, the griddle area is constantly cleaned. Debris is wiped away as quickly as it falls. Toast popping up of of the toaster is caught in mid-air. Catching it once is chance or luck. Catching it every time is amazing. It’s almost like a ballet and these guys are the pros from Dover.
The waitresses are no less amazing. Without ever seeming to stop, they constantly cruise the counter and all of the tables filling coffee cups, delivering food and taking orders. Orders are relayed loudly and clearly to the cooks who never look up, or even acknowledge the order. An astounding number of folks are greeted by name, but everyone else is referred to as either ‘Darlin’ or ‘Sweetie’. Despite the crush of the rush, everyone gets a smile and genuinely friendly greeting. As customers finish breakfast their tables are bused, or the counter is wiped and new customers seated before the old customer reaches the door to leave the building. The frequency that everyone seems to wash their hands is incredible. Every time you look toward the hand sink, someone is washing their hands. A constant stream of orders called out to the cooks. With Eta James singing “I’d rather go blind” in the background, the cooks and waitresses never miss a beat in this remarkable performance.
Sitting here waiting for my wife’s car to be repaired after having sacrificed an antenna at the car wash has been an amazing,eye opening experience. Everyone at Waffle House works like a dog. They all know their role in this amazing breakfast machine. Each does their job quickly and efficiently.
My breakfast arrives and it’s perfect.
Time passes and soon it’s 10:30. The Lexus place still hasn’t called. The morning rush appears to be over, but no one stops moving. The booths are all bused and ready. The counter is empty except for me and another guy. Restocking is going on. Cleaning continues. The entire crew must be obsessive compulsive about hand washing. Thermometers in the refrigeration units are checked, and the readings are logged on a piece of paper. More hand washing. The cooks change gloves at lot. The griddle area is spotless.
Finally, the Lexus guys call. It is 11:00 and my wife’s car has a new antenna. On the ride back to the dealership, I comment to the driver on what I have witnessed. He tells me that this crew has been working on that shift together for close to twenty year.
It occurs to me that there is nothing wrong with America that a breakfast at Waffle House can’t fix.
It’s not a T-bone from Waffle House, but it’s pretty damn good.
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