This weekend: you’re going to be engrossed in dimly lit scenes involving capes, black masks and skintight
catsuits. You might even take in a showing of The Dark Knight Rises.
This Tuesday: well, that’s mostly going to be about you devouring chicken and waffles. Totally cape-optional.
Meet Hash House a Go Go, your new go-to diner for lifesaving midnight breakfasts in the Gold Coast, opening Tuesday.
Okay, you can have morning breakfasts and evening dinners here, too. (They don’t even need to be all that lifesaving.) Just know that you’ll be entering a place that looks like a farmhouse where the farmer went to culinary school and then joined a biker gang. (Yeah, that old look.)
There’s a single strand of wheat on the tables, rock music rumbling above and the O’Hare of the Dog, five thick slices of smoked bacon served with a monster 24-ounce can of Bud that’s slipped to you in a brown paper bag.
But when you’ve had an exhausting night doing heroic feats involving vodka, champagne, sparklers and paper cocktail napkins, feel secure in the knowledge that a bar stool and sage fried chicken atop a towering stack of bacon-studded waffles will be here waiting for you until 2am on weekends.
Which is about four hours past Alfred’s bedtime.
This Tuesday: well, that’s mostly going to be about you devouring chicken and waffles. Totally cape-optional.
Meet Hash House a Go Go, your new go-to diner for lifesaving midnight breakfasts in the Gold Coast, opening Tuesday.
Okay, you can have morning breakfasts and evening dinners here, too. (They don’t even need to be all that lifesaving.) Just know that you’ll be entering a place that looks like a farmhouse where the farmer went to culinary school and then joined a biker gang. (Yeah, that old look.)
There’s a single strand of wheat on the tables, rock music rumbling above and the O’Hare of the Dog, five thick slices of smoked bacon served with a monster 24-ounce can of Bud that’s slipped to you in a brown paper bag.
But when you’ve had an exhausting night doing heroic feats involving vodka, champagne, sparklers and paper cocktail napkins, feel secure in the knowledge that a bar stool and sage fried chicken atop a towering stack of bacon-studded waffles will be here waiting for you until 2am on weekends.
Which is about four hours past Alfred’s bedtime.
