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- I’ve never eaten at a Waffle House
If you’ve read any of this month’s pick—or even if you’ve just taken a glance through its page—you will have probably noticed that the book’s prime example is Waffle House.
Eating there is essentially the authors’ Platonic ideal of the “democratic hedonism” that we need more of. It’s pleasurable, inexpensive, tasty, and consistent, yet also the result of a complicated and extremely modern food system (and, as it goes, not all that reliant on animal products.)
Jan Dutkiewicz and Gabriel N. Rosenberg lay it out as early as page 2.
“Don’t dismiss these pleasures just because they’re simple and common. Although you might be able to reproduce those waffles on your own with a bit of practice and effort—or maybe you’re the breakfast hero at home, a batter-and-griddle maestro who can outshine them—the reliable pleasures Waffle House delivers are a wonder owed to the scale and precision of the modern food system.”
“And here’s the thing. The waffle you make in your own kitchen? Or that elaborate one with lavender buttercream and black-currant syrup at the trendy brunch spot? Both of those will almost certainly piggyback on the same crops and modern industrial technology as the Waffle House, but the difference is that although you can make a few waffles (and a huge mess) in your own kitchen, and the brunch place can make a few hundred, Waffle Houses turn out on average 145 waffles every minute of every day all year long, and they do it with an inexpensive and dependable consistency that delights the droves of ordinary people who pack their booths 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.”
As I was reading this, I was kind of distracted by my first thought. It was a pretty simple one: I’ve never eaten at Waffle House. Maybe this isn’t the book for me.
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Waffle House is an American staple, with more than 2,000 locations across 25 states. I know about its legendary cultural status: not just the never-ending supply of pancakes, of course, but more the chaotic late nights, and the “Waffle House Index” unofficially used by FEMA to describe the severity of environmental disasters. (If you’re not familiar: Waffle House’s emergency response system is so good that if a location is closed, it’s a great signal that the impending storm/hurricane/flood or whatever is really, really serious.)
I have of course eaten pancakes—RIP It’s Tops, San Francisco’s late, lamented spot*—and at IHOP once or twice. But Waffle House is geographically limited. It’s headquartered in Georgia, and all those spots are mainly in the Midwest and down the East Coast, so there’s no Waffle House in California.
But as I dug into the definitions that Feed the People! uses for its arguments, I quickly realized that even if I hadn’t eaten at Waffle House I had definitely eaten at Waffle House.
Any organized, professional establishment—whether it’s a gigantic chain, a regional staple, or just a mom-and-pop shop—relies on all the same systems and technologies and logistical magic that Waffle House does. The only exceptions, really, are those bonkers “we grow our own food” places, but those are very few and far between. Almost every other food outlets, whether they are production line places or “artisanal” locations, are tapping into exactly the same machinery. They’re often buying their supplies from exactly the same places, just dressing it up differently and pitching it to different markets.
It’s one of the things I appreciated in this book—seeing that underneath the varied exteriors, the food system works just the same pretty much everywhere, for good and bad.
And so that means I understand Waffle House even without having stepped foot in one. I have eaten in restaurants; I enjoy cheap and cheerful food; I appreciate a good ritual.
Today, hitting up In-n-Out for a burger whenever we’re on a road trip is a definite family tradition; When I was younger, we would visit my hometown kebab shop we used to visit after too many beers on a Friday night (shout out Benny’s BBQ.) And those foods aren’t all that different from the things we make at home, because we buy our goods from the grocery store. Those warm and inviting pork noodles I cook up every once in a while (we call it “special ramen”), or cabbage risotto my wife makes when it’s cold outside and we just want to curl up—those are the product of the industrial system too, even if the final step is in my hands rather than somebody else’s. There’s no need to be snotty or precious about it, because the same system that brings us great dirty eats also brings us the clean healthy stuff. And they both bring us joy.
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I’d love to know: What’s your favorite industrial eat? What are your food rituals? And did Feed the People! make you think about them any differently?
Finally, a reminder that we’ll be holding a conversation with Jan Dutkiewicz and Gabriel N. Rosenberg on Wednesday May 27 at 3pm Eastern/12pm Pacific. I’ll send out details soon. Until next time,
Onwards
Bobbie
*It’s Tops always called them hot cakes, for what it’s worth.