nope

I don't get it. I've tried to get it, several times in fact. But I just don't. 

I know Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles has had a cult following for decades,

with several locations all over Los Angeles. And I know it's a southern thing.

They make everything fresh, they have their own special recipes, mixes, etc.

I even get the syrup-oozing-onto-the-meat, giving it a sweet burst of maple.

Like when you have some bacon that gets a little syrup on it and oooh, yum.

Or the recently popular maple donuts sprinkled with crispy pieces of real bacon.

But try as I might, I can't get the chicken & waffles thing. Maybe it's the menu. 

Have you ever been offered so many body innards to go with your meal?

They've got chicken liver and giblets and gizzards all out the yazzoo.

A fresh chicken liver omelette? I'll say it's your own private mix...

My gag reflex was on stand-by just reading the menu.

I began reflecting upon another chicken... incident... of times past,

but I quickly forced it from my mind with my cat-like mental reflexes.

Here is the traditional chicken and waffle plate that my family loves.

It looks really innocent, I know. Until your family grow fangs and horns

and start ripping it to shreds, and making yummy noises like Bill Murray,

and making piles and piles of chicken bones right there on your table.

Here are Davy and Matthew ~ Matthew's 15th birthday

(which is why we were here in the first place - it's all his fault)

Cute pic - what you don't know is that it was like, the fourth try.

One or both of them were finally not crossing their eyes or drooling.

John anticipating his chicken and waffles and me being a really good sport.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm Mother of the Year. Yeah, I'm almost positive.

That bright light above me? That would be my halo.

Davy pretending to be polite, before the shredding began.

See?! I told you - this is what it comes to!

I opted not to take an "after" photo for obvious reasons.