This will be my new prerequisite for any future romantic relations; thank the breakfast gods that my boyfriend shares a similar affinity. Not only are waffles applicable in various situations, ice cream cones, street treats in England, tortilla-like wrapper, obvious breakfast functions, and the most significant and delicious of all waffle-uses, as a palatial cushion ironed specifically to cradle crispy fried chicken.
This is how it started:
Last night as I lounged in bed dreaming of my Nana's tamales and cursing my mother for keeping my year's allotment in our freezer back home, I perused the austin360.com food blogs where lovely Addie Broyles and Mike Sutter fill my food writing appetite. I came across an article by Mr. Sutter describing a new local travelling food coach specializing in the furthest thing from tamales: chicken n' waffles. Of course, I am limited to this particular adage otherwise it just wouldn't be real. This new little victual trailer is called Lucky J's and is located on north Burnet Rd., past the Amy's Ice Cream, and is so worth the wait and the sticky fingers. So in a matter of minutes my midnight cravings went from one end of the social spectrum to the other; however, the unhealthy genre of snacks remained stable. So I quickly sent a message to my good friend Alex all but commanding her presence at Lucky J's the next evening.
She, of course, thought I was kidding, I mean who in their right mind craved such things at such hours? Well I am neither pregnant nor alien, but simply a girl with a serious subconscious appetite problem, a brain that seems to be on constant foodie patrol, and a tendency to eat like her teenage brother used to.
So we go. Meet at 7; of course I am late. I bring the boyfriend, Alex brings hers. Michael is so excited he is almost bouncing off the wooden picnic tables. He has been talking about it all day, or so I've heard. We order. Alex and Mike choose "The Baller": a full fried chicken and four waffles. Josh and I decide we should just do half a chicken and two waffles which is aptly named "The Deal". Everything includes butter and syrup but you can request real maple syrup at an extra cost. Sadly, and to my health kick's demise, the corn syrupy goodness of "that fake stuff" reigns supreme when it comes to chicken n' waffle coverage. Save the maple for your cakes and pies.
As we wait on the brand new picnic tables, studded on each end with seedlings still sporting their bar codes, we contemplate the awesomeness soon to be before us. Our orders are announced ready and come in recycled paper to go boxes. Mike and Alex return with three full boxes. Our "Deal" only fills up one box, but we hungrily dig in. Chicken is flying, crispy bits of fried crust sticks to every inch of you, while the syrup seems to seep into every pore! The packets of butter included in the boxes melt next to the greasy heat of the chicken so there is no need for a knife. There is almost no practicality in utensils; you are going to become one with your chicken n' waffles.
In the end, despite still being covered in syrup and smelling of a diner, it was completely worth it. We are thinking of making it a weekly occurrence. We left with a box of left-over chicken each and swollen bellies. Mike said he was going to make Alex make him waffles at home to accompany his second day fried chicken; he is a bold man.
Absentmindedly, I forgot my camera and so these pictures are not authentic of our experience. Next time we will come prepared with ready cameras, starving stomachs, bottles of water and wet wipes.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Posted by Katherine at 8:39 PM