Hash House’s signature dish—fried chicken and waffles—arrives like most other things on this menu do: big enough to feed a small country and stabbed with a knife and a freakishly large rosemary sprig. It looks impressive, but when you find that the chicken is haphazardly fried (burnt some places, the meat dried out), the shock and awe wears off. This is bad news, because for most of this food—squishy waffles stuffed with bacon; a blueberry-pecan pancake the size of an extra-large pizza—shock and awe is the only redeeming value.
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