Review: Southeast Waffle Company (♦1/2)

To see this place as a simple kitchen serving coffee and a few varieties of Belgian waffles overlooks its role as a purveyor of 13th century Greek cuisine.

The same Mediterraneans responsible for homework nightmares and sponsor-driven sports were cooking savory obleios flavored with cheese and herbs back when Aunt Jemima was feeling the marketing blues due to a shortage of plastic bottles.

History purists might argue real waffles arrived in 1953 when Eggo invaded supermarket freezers. But the Pilgrims also deserve credit for bringing them to the U.S. back in 1620, even if they probably got our relations with the Natives off to a bad start by ruining their appetites for Thanksgiving Dinner. Exotics might want to make a trip to Japan for their fish-shaped waffles filled with bean paste, but leave it to the British to screw up yet another dish by making them from reconstituted potatoes.

The kind sold at the Southeast Waffle Company made their public debut at the 1964 World’s Fair in New York when Brussels restaurateur Maurice Vermersch used his wife’s recipe to make the fluffy yeast- and egg-infused cakes. Wikipedia notes since “most Americans didn’t know where Brussels actually was, he decided to change the name from ‘Brussels Waffle’ to the ‘Belgian Waffle.’”

These days one can order or find recipes for as many varieties as any bread-like substance. It’s easy to be tempted by them as a dessert with strawberries and whipped cream, but loyalists also swear by pairing them with fried chicken (”pry off a bite of chicken with your fork, sprinkle on hot sauce, spear a syrup-drenched bit of waffle with that same chicken-laden fork,” advises the trendy Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in L.A.). But they’re still the upscale and less popular alternative to the mighty pancake - especially when feeding multiple people - since they’re harder to prepare and must be eaten quickly before they become limp.

As such, the business model for the SWC doesn’t compute in theory and sometimes - such as long waits when there’s a backlog of orders - this spills over into reality. But in practical terms, they seem to have a large and growing fan base because even when things are rough they do so many vital little things well it’s hard not to enjoy the experience.

First, this isn’t just a breakfast place, since it stays open until midnight every day but Sunday, when it closes at 10 p.m. You can read, play chess or use the free wi-fi for hours while looking at the boats across the road in Auke Bay and never feel a bit of guilt, unless it’s a weekend morning and there’s a beyond-capacity crowd. The decor in what’s a fairly Spartan dining area has improved since they first opened thanks to touches such as a better paint job. One of ours who has an eye for such things comments “I’d encourage them to continue down that road, enhancing the feel with more and funkier paint, a bookshelf of trade-in paperback books and magazines, and maybe an old guitar (note: at least some of that is there already, although they could definitely use more). On the other hand, while that might make it even more of a gathering place, it won’t really help the bottom line.”

There’s a laundromat with broken change and detergent machines a couple of doors down, making the illusion of productivity possible. Speaking of which, they could use more electric outlets, especially within reach of the tables by the windows - and some cushions for those planning to occupy the hard seats for a while.

The young staff is perfect for a mellow hangout, pleasant and devoid of Starbucks-like snobbery. If they lived in a dorm up the road at UAS and invited a bunch of friends over for breakfast in the hypothetical communal kitchen, it might not be a lot different than this.

That holds true in both a good and bad sense. They cook their waffles on three irons and when things got busy on a recent weekend we ended up waiting for nearly an hour, getting our order only after reminding them about it. They also forgot the syrup, necessitating another quick trip to the counter. They were nearly empty during a weekday lunch, making it a good choice then for those in the mood or unhappy with the out-the-door line next door at Chan’s Thai Kitchen.

But by that rough weekend morning SWC had built up enough collective good will not to wreck the mood. They deliver on coffee stuff, balancing flavorings, foam and other inevitable extra requests better than a lot of coffee shops in town. Things like smoothies and spiced hot chocolate are worthy beverages for those needing a sugar jolt to wash down all that syrup.

The waffles are the heart of the menu, of course, and the only food option unless one is in the mood for plastic-wrapped Costco muffins. This is where the SWC both shines and suffers from things that seem easily fixed. The batter for the basic waffle ($4.50) is smooth and mildly sweet, a nice one-size-fits-all choice even if lacking the character of a good sourdough or buttermilk recipe. The biggest problem is even fresh they’re more soft than crisp. Some of us weren’t bothered; for others it’s a cardinal sin (asking them to cook it a bit longer is an easy fix if they’re not swarmed). We did see the kitchen doing a couple of takeout orders, by the way, but it’s hardly something we’d recommend unless you’re just going across the street to dine on the beach.

The standard syrup is that Log Cabin/Golden Griddle stuff that’s absolute Heaven for kids and best ignored by anyone old enough to afford the extra 75 cents for real maple. The inevitable strawberry-topped waffle ($6) is the inevitable pie-filling stuff instead of fresh berries, hard enough to get at classy joints Down South. Other default menu options include a chocolate chip waffle topped with peanut butter ($6) and a spelt waffle ($5.50).

The most interesting choice is the omelet waffle ($6.75), a source of confusion for a lot of customers since the chalkboard menu simply calls it an “omelet” (the staff says they make sure those ordering it know what they’re getting). It’s traditional batter on the bottom half, egg on the top half, with ham, cheese and peppers baked in, and topped with salsa and sour cream. It’s satisfying for the pallet and appetite, proving more than we could finish.

A ham and cheddar waffle served with syrup ($5.50) isn’t a bad balance of flavors, although one person thought it’d be better with the omelet toppings. Or maybe just cheese and sour cream. Or why not add turkey and swiss cheese (or even Gruyere) and call it a Monte Cristo?

And that’s maybe the quickest and easiest thing SWC could do to knock their appeal up a notch. Adding a few simple ingredients to the kitchen could vastly expand menu possibilities without making things much harder on the staff. One of our diners wanted yogurt, for instance, favoring it instead of whipped cream. Throw some canned pintos on one of these cheese/meat/salsa concoctions and you have a griddle variation of the Navajo taco. Heck, buy crab across the street, put cream in a side dish and call it Waffle Newberg (OK, maybe that’s stretching things).

The point is a little imagination and a build-your-own approach from those few extra staples might give SWC enough extra oomph to sway our few (and mildly) displeased critics. The bagels at the Breeze Inn are a travesty to their namesake, but they’ve been successful selling them all these years because they come in a bunch of wacky and wonderful flavors. SWC has a much higher quality product to start with; it doesn’t take much to visualize them being a special “find” tucked away in an obscure corner.

Then again, if it’s as crowded on all weekends as we saw, maybe they don’t need the extra boost. The last thing needed next to Chan’s is another place with a “we’ll feed you when we’re able to” attitude. Besides, the kitchen staff is so nice you can probably bring your own fruit and yogurt and they won’t say a word if you keep it on the table.