Grandma’s Waffle Explosion



I recently discovered my friend’s 85-year-old grandma does Fat Pants Fridays.

How’s that for a lede?

WHO’S WITH ME? A friend I’m getting drunk with the following night, and her grandmother. This was her fourth time doing Fat Pants Friday. Her first was my Radio Face, and she has done the Cuban Missile.

I’ve never had anything like it,” she said of the Radio Face. “It had a spike, or a sword, right down the middle of it.” She was kind enough to help me write this week’s recap. Credit anything in quotations to her.

WHAT IS THIS THING? “Waffle Explosion.”

TOP TO BOTTOM: Spike, egg, this crazy delicious jalapeno cranberry salsa, ham, more ham, waffle, deep-fried bacon, fried cheese curds, gravy, fried chicken, turkey? I think there was turkey … more gravy, mashed potatoes, waffle, asparagus, miniature sausage.

HEIGHT:Oh my gosh, it had to be eight, nine inches tall!”

WEIGHT:I don’t think I’d have the strength to carry it. They had to have one person carry just mine!”

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION:Oh, I never ask those kinds of questions. That’ll ruin your appetite!” Words to live by.

Le Pants

TWO DAYS EARLIER: Chef Angel was being named one of 2015’s top Twin Cities chefs by Food Service News. He is in top company, and belongs there. I couldn’t be happier.

ONE DAY LATER: Minnesota Brewery Running Series CEO Morgan Jappe and I are crab-walking Saturday’s .5K race between Bauhaus Brew Labs and 612BREW. This is a true sentence I just wrote.

WHAT’S IN THE GLASS? Surly Furious for the editor, Diet Coke for the guests.

STRATEGY: You realize you’ve only got five minutes to eat this, right?” said the bartender when the Fat Pants arrived. Not the case, of course, but Grandma nearly fake-died regardless. Wanna know what’s real, though? THAT BIB. She brought it from home. That those are still being made somewhere in the world is reason enough to hold out hope for humanity.

Remember the name Waffle Explosion? Here’s how you ate this: You cut into a waffle and ate whatever got blown out under your fork.

Grandma did a quick once-around before digging in, inspecting it the way an appraiser might calculate the worth of an art piece, and got about a third of the way through. My friend got a little farther than that.

I emptied the plate. It’s only an 800-foot crab walk. No trouble, right?

So what’d we think?

It was excellent! I love the differences in taste. Every bite was different than the one before, and it’s always very good!”

She’s coming back next week. Get on this woman’s level.




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