The Waffle Bus. I like waffles. I like fried chicken. Why would I not go there?
So I grabbed a girlfriend and we ventured out to the University of Houston campus, the bus's current weekday stand.
It's hot, the parking garage sits down the block, there are no chairs in sight and, no longer college-age, it's a little nostalgic and you're a lot old.
But it's worth it.
So we got up, got down and put our hands up, to the waffle round.
Boldly, I ordered the Buttermilk Fried Chicken & Waffle Sandwich, while my more sane pal requested the Smoked Salmon Waffle. Then we done lost our damn minds and added an order of the good old American sweet waffle, waffle french fries and a S'mores Sweet Waffle Sandwich. Party rock.
The ginormous chunk of ancho chili honey-fried chicken on my Buttermilk Fried Chicken & Waffle Sandwich sat on the biggest fresh waffle I ever did see. These portions are not for sissies. And me, nope, no tomato or lettuce for this cave gal. I'm takin' it straight up and greasy.
The chicken definitely proved fried and juicy, with a nice dark brown crunch. The distinctive chile sauce was unique, some might say interesting, but I might try the spicy mayo next. And as an official fat-ass, I would have loved maple syrup slathered all over it. I mean, we are eating waffles. However. My overall assessment: still near the top of the class.
The Smoked Salmon Waffle sandwich receives an A++ with an E for culinary excellence. This valedictorian came with lemon caper dill cream cheese, baby spinach, sliced tomato and a balsamic drizzle.
What at first seemed like the school nerd became the class clown and football star. This thing was tasty. How they keep the fish fresh in a truck in 100 degree weather baffles me, but my ignorance is bliss.
After two sandwiches, a side of powdered waffles with syrup and well-marinated french fries, it was time for dessert. S'mores!
This was another humongous waffle, this time filled with warm chocolate ganache, graham cracker crumble and oozing, toasted marshmallow. After the nuclear explosion of charred cream puff, the chocolate spread across the now soggy, ironed batter. This is food for the soul.
As we lazily picked at waffle leftovers, two matriculating lads approached, inviting us to next Tuesday's campus Bible study. We left flattered, yet...LMFAO. We weren't sexy, and we knew it. But we certainly agreed on the greatness of the gospel of manager Doug Le and the devilish flow of this big, burgundy waffle bus. Because everyone just had a great time.
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