Obama, McCain ... whatever
By Erica Wayne 10/09/2008
Every four years, as the presidential campaigns shift into high gear, an overwhelming urge to eat at Roscoe's House of Chicken ’n Waffles comes over me. The first time, back in 1992, it took a while for me to figure out what was going on. But then, as I tucked into a juicy thigh and breathed in the heavy maple perfume wafting gently upward from a butter-drenched waffle, it hit me.
“House of Chicken ’n Waffles” sounded a lot like the Clinton White House. At least that’s what his opponents wanted us to believe. (Remember Bush 41 ordering waffles to skewer Clinton’s changing policies and explanations; Perot’s characterization of the Arkansas economy as chicken farming with a budget less than Toys ’R’ Us?) The 1996 campaign called for double waffles all around — extra butter and syrup.
In 2000, that subliminal refrain (chicken and waffles, waffles and chicken) once again drifted into my head, and I high-tailed it to Roscoe’s to insulate myself from the McCain smears, Gore’s never-ending personality shifts during the debates and Dubya, barely able to pronounce the names of foreign leaders — not to mention “nuclear” — turning ol’ Al inside-out. I was a Roscoe’s regular for the entire month of October.
My Roscoe’s fixation came early in 2004. As soon as the word flip-flop started appearing in commercials and the swift boat vets began their rant, thoughts of crisp chicken skin and tender waffles began circling through my brain like endorphins. I went to Roscoe’s five times in the two weeks prior to the election and was lucky to have ducked a diabetic coma from all the syrup.
Now it’s 2008, and things are worse than ever. McCain wants to bomb Iran. Obama’s too cool for school, Biden thinks FDR went on TV in 1929, Palin is totally clueless, we’re completely out of money and the ice cap is melting. The electorate is divided. But most local voters at least agree that Roscoe’s House of Chicken ’n Waffles has been good for Pasadena dining.
Unlike our present president and his economic advisers, Roscoe’s ratings have never been higher and nobody seems to be questioning their abilities or expertise. An informal poll of departing diners scores well over 90 percent favorable, a number unimagined by presidential pollsters.
The reason is simple: chicken and waffles aplenty, with lots of rich gravy and syrup, earthy greens, huge hunks of corn bread, buttery grits, enormous red beans with great mounds of rice doused with hot sauce and big fluffy biscuits. Nobody who’s tasted them could vote no.
And like
Any leader, Roscoe’s draws crowds — lots and lots of cheerful, hungry, hopeful people looking for respite from the fringe and fad food served in many Pasadena restaurants. If chicken and waffles aren’t what your mother made when you were a little kid, I bet you wish she had. Basic, wholesome, heartland Joe Six-Pack fare.
Indeed, Roscoe’s doesn't waffle about its menu. Most restaurants of the “home-cooking” genre have more variety, with a couple of hamburgers, steaks, etc. to appeal to real meat-eaters. Not Roscoe’s! The furthest it bends in that direction is a chicken burger ($7.10), and for the health-conscious, a chef’s salad with chicken ($8.10).
You’d be a fool to order either, however, when there’s crisp waffles with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon ($7.90 for two) and Southern style fried chicken ($10.40 plain, or $11.90 with biscuit, grits and a smothering blanket of onion-studded gravy). As a Maryland native, I prefer my bird naked, delicately battered with just a dusting of seasoned flour to provide crunch.
The “à la carte” prices of $4.30 a breast, $2.70 a thigh or leg and $2.20 for a wing seem pretty steep, especially right now when our economy has tanked and I’m grateful for the 99-cent value meals KFC is advertising. But the Colonel treats his chickens mean, and there’s no comparison in taste.
Of course, as Ross Perot kept reminding us, complete with illustrated charts, there are no free lunches. Roscoe’s price structure encourages “combo” dining, and the best deal seems to be No. 1 — a quarter-chicken (ungravied) and two waffles ($10.20). I’m a wing nut, so No.9 (three wings and a waffle — $8.40) is a perennial fave. (I add a prayer for the planet to my wings these days.) Hope the bailout works so I can continue to charge my meals!
As the last month of the campaign simmers on with increasing heat, you’ll find me saying “thanks but no thanks” to politics and chilling out at Roscoe’s, undergoing maple and hot oil aroma-therapy. No matter who wins, the likelihood is that the White House (like Congress) will continue to be a house of chicken and waffles, and Roscoe’s will remain the most politically correct restaurant in town.
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