Waffle House Hashbrowns

You know what’s better than Nancy Pelosi as Speaker of the House?

Waffle House hashbrowns.

To be perfectly fair, outgoing Speaker Paul Ryan can’t hold a candle to those shredded spuds of glory, either.

I heard KC O’Dea talking about them on the radio yesterday, and now all I can think about is going to Waffle House and ordering a heaping plate of damn hashbrowns.

Unfortunately, I don’t get paid until Friday.

As Darth Vader once said, “Nooooooooooooooooo!”

The fact that I still eat at Waffle House once in a while (despite the fact that I spent over three years working there) speaks volumes about the food.

It doesn’t hurt that it’s open 24/7, though.

Waffle House hashbrowns can be served with a variety of toppings. They are as follows:

Smothered: onions (🤮)

Covered: cheese

Peppered: jalapeños

Chunked: ham

Capped: mushrooms

Diced: tomatoes

Topped: chili

Country: sausage gravy

My go-to order is a Double (because why settle for one?) hashbrown covered, chunked, peppered, capped and country. A nice helping of Tabasco tops it off.

Bring on the Tums and marathon bathroom breaks!

Going forward, before I vote for any politician, I want to see how he or she orders hashbrowns at Waffle House.

If a politician is even willing to eat at Waffle House, then that’s a plus, no matter what party he or she is affiliated with.

Can you imagine Nancy Pelosi or Paul Ryan showing up at any Waffle House at 3 a.m. during the bar rush? 😂

I certainly can’t, and that’s just plain sad.

You Got Me, SC

File this under “Things from South Carolina that aren’t as repulsive as you think.”

As a lifelong Old-North-Stater (I absolutely refuse to refer to myself as being from the “Tar Heel State”), I first scoffed at the idea of mustard-based barbecue sauce years ago while I was traveling to Florida with my best friend, Chase, and his parents.

Along the way we stopped at an old joint in South Carolina called Maurice’s Piggie Park, famous for its barbecue and, unfortunately, its pro-segregationist founder, Lloyd Maurice Bessinger, Jr.

The gift shop chock-full of illuminating literature, such as “Why the South was Right”, along with other drivel that could have been lifted from George Wallace’s wettest dreams, was bad enough. But when I saw that the barbecue itself had quite the yellow hue, I passed.

Mustard on hot dogs? Sign me up. Mustard on barbecue? No friggin way.

Fast-forward eleven years, and there I was in Food Lion picking up a bottle of Heinz Carolina Mustard Style BBQ Sauce.

I figured what the hell? I’m an adult now, and I’m open to trying new things (sort of).

My wife had planned to make Tacos, but I asked her if we could shift gears and go with chicken nuggets and tater tots.

Tacos aren’t exactly the best springboard for trying a new barbecue sauce.

I took a lick.

It was…

Not bad. At all.

It was, dare I say it…

Pretty damn good!

So South Carolina, you got me. Mustard-based barbecue sauce is a nice combination of zing and tang.

The next time I’m in SC, I’ll swing by Maurice’s Piggie Park and get some mustard-tinged pulled pork.

It’s okay, because Bessinger is dead now, and his family removed the Confederate flags and racist stuff from the restaurant.