I woke up on Sabado feeling that I have been needlessly putting off a Roscoe's CCB entry for quite awhile now. After all, I realized, this place was one of my initial comida inspirations. I quickly fell out of bed, while shaking K from a pleasant snooze, and we promptly headed to hazy Hollywood for some chicken and waffles. While the exact origins of this dish have been (and will be) disputed by scholars for decades, I do know for a fact that Harlem native Herb Hudson brought his version of soul food to Los Angeles in 1976. After entering into Roscoe's rustic (lit like a wild west brothel) interior, we studied the menu and came up with flying aces. K ordered numero 19: thigh, leg, long grain arroz, gravy, and a biscuit; while I opted for the Carol C. special: suculento breast, syrup, big ass waffle. This hot piece of pollo frito is truly some of the best in the west (or maybe even the south), crispy and flavorful outside and muy tierno on the inside. Pull apart, heap onto buttery waffle, enjoy. The surgeon general may want to stamp a warning on those instructions, but they sure make for a damn fine desayuno.
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