Waffle House Bel Air

Despite all its imperfections, Waffle House is a culinary destination everyone has to visit once in their life. It's not just a restaurant, it's an experience. I would happily give it six stars if I could! The location on Conowingo Road epitomizes this truth. I walked in today to find the usual cast of characters and the unmistakable cult of personality that rings true at every location: six or seven employees yelling at each other, a strange old man warning the service staff not to burn or butter his bread, threatening to call the health department, and creating pet names for the staff like "picklehead," a line cook who was furiously complaining about a previous guest. It all felt so familiar - like home. There was a film of trash on the floor complete with forks, paper wrappers, dirt, and the dishwasher was broken so we were informed that we would be feasting on paper plates. The waitress sat me and told me she'd be back to take my order after a cigarette. So I patiently waited, listening to the ruckus around me, fighting off a pair of flies that kept trying to land on my table. Another server came by and took my napkin dispenser only to launch it back on my table ten minutes later as it nearly sent my drink toppling over. My food finally arrived on a Styrofoam plate after a rather longer-than-usual wait. But the sloppy, greasy goodness did not disappoint! A refill on my soda came back without new ice, just the melted chunks from my last glass. I scarfed down the heart attack on the plate, and with a happy tummy, I paid my bill and was off into the cold mid-winter's day, dreaming of hashbrowns and melted Texas patties.