We hadn’t hit Bru’s Wiffle in almost a decade (RIP Marina del Rey location, gone but not forgotten by my stomach), so we ventured to the Santa Monica spot. The back patio is basically a botanical garden with waffles — plants everywhere, happy people carbo-loading, the works.

First up: the hot chocolate. It arrived in an honest-to-goodness cup and saucer like it had manners. Rich, velvety, and clearly trying to get adopted by the fancy French cafés of the world. 10/10 would sip again and judge other hot chocolates from atop my newfound cocoa throne.

Then came Dwight’s Special: a Belgian waffle crowned with two crispy, boneless chicken breasts. We added butter and syrup because we are simple people who make excellent life decisions. The bacon on the side waffle was the perfect level of crisp — the kind of crisp that makes you question why bacon ever comes in any other form.

Service was friendly and efficient, which is my favorite combo right after “chicken” and “waffle.” We’re already plotting our return, mostly because food like this gives you hope for humanity.