![]() That very first Waffle House opened over Labor Day weekend 1955, the same year Roy Kroc joined McDonald’s and transformed the American dining scene. It opened in the ‘90s, right across the street from the very first Waffle House, which was sold in the ‘70s, operated as a mediocre Chinese restaurant, and later turned into the country’s only Waffle House museum. ![]() Mine is Unit #1000 on East College Avenue in Avondale Estates, GA. Perfect alongside nut-studded malty waffles, which are also always better when they’re served extra crispy.Įveryone has their own personal Waffle House. ![]() I especially cherish the meals when the toast shows up “kinda burnt” - the copious sugar in the bread caramelizes to make a salty-sweet treat. My standard order is a pecan waffle with a side of raisin toast, both of which I slather with whatever brand of salted fake butter they bring to the table. A few benches along the side wall served as a resting spot for customers who just wanted a coffee. The first Waffle House had only counter seating, which has been reproduced in the Waffle House museum in Avondale Estates, Georgia. (They didn’t.) As we grew older, we’d show up to the Athens or West Atlanta location in the middle of the afternoon on New Year’s Day, praying that hash browns would soothe our stomachs and unlimited coffee would cure our hangovers. It was a crucial halfway point between events and our homes, where we could sop up all those Bud Lights, gossip, try to find out if Sam or David or Brandon liked us. In high school, we’d go to Waffle House after football games or illicit backyard parties or when we were bored. I have been this customer more times than I care to admit. After an hour or so, they stumble out and wander home, bellies full of grease and salt. They pack into booths, spilling out onto the floor with laughter or slurring or both. ( Atlanta alone has more than 250 locations.) The customers smash buttons on the jukebox, order their hash browns “all the way,” and dance in the aisles until waitresses bring their platters of breakfast foods, served on ceramic plates with a decorative brown border. They’re easy to find: drive along any interstate in the region and you’ll likely see one or two at each exit. Bars close and spill their tipsy patrons out into Ubers and Lyfts and city buses, and they travel in droves to the nearest yellow-signed building. In Waffle Houses across the southeast, the second rush begins around 2 a.m.
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