People love them some Breakfast Klub, as you can tell from the hour-long wait outside on weekends. The menu mostly comprises Southern classics like grits, fried catfish, and fried chicken and waffles; the trademark Southern hospitality extends to large tables full of groups and families, and the queue out the door is full of people from all walks of life—from post-church folks who grew up on their Southern grandma’s cooking, to alcohol-marinated hipsters. The funky art on the deep red walls and the dark wood tones lend the place a somewhat surprising sophistication.

Of course, the food here is a cardiologist’s worst nightmare. The specialties of “katfish,” along with grits (excellent), sausage (greasy), and waffles (cardboard), all come in huge portions that are so heavy and monotonous that they all require a complement of both maple syrup and Tabasco. Krazy!

Aside from breakfast items, there are daily classic-Southern specials like étouffée, “Chikin Fried Chikin,” and red beans and rice. The Breakfast Klub is a fun, culty tradition, but one with jacked-up prices brought about by overhyping. It seems to be one of those places that’s well patronized mostly because the thought of it closing terrifies the city. And, hey, the soporific effects of the food will help make napping easier—that’s never a bad thing.