Nothing says breakfast like onion rings from Annie’s
“Is it too early for a burger?” That’s what I asked the cashier at the venerable Annie’s Hamburgers on South Post Oak last week. It was 9:45 a.m., I had run an early errand in this part of town. I needed sustenance.
Passing by Annie’s, which was open for short-order breakfasts, my car turned in as of its own accord. In some primitive part of my brain, I knew they had something I needed. I assumed it was their burger, and I rejoiced when the counter person assured me it was no problem.
Just for the hell of it, I added an order of onion rings and a chocolate shake (they were out of coffee). I heard the boiling oil pop and snap as I waited, a good sign. And when I folded back the white paper envelope holding the onion rings, which sat plump and bronzed and gorgeous, I remembered: it was Annie’s o-rings that had lurked in my lizard brain all along.
They were steamy-hot, made in a style I’d call modified funnel cake, which is to say that their cladding was a bit puffed and the merest trace cakelike under the crisp exteriors. They came in every size, squat and fat, long and gangly, as if cut by human hand. They were thick enough for their sweet allium flavor to shine through the downy batter.
The rings had just enough salt to stand on their own, but I fell in love with the pinkish sauce that came with them, a hot-and-tart New Orleansy amalgam of tartar sauce and Thousand Island, lit up by minced dill pickle and red pepper.
This is one of the best deals in town, I thought as I stared at the remains of my $3.50 order. I nibbled at my cheeseburger before remembering that Annie’s version had never been my thing, with its dense, almost flexible thin patty griddled to distraction. I didn’t care. The
rings were the breakfast I didn’t know I craved. There are so many dismal, manufactured ones these days that finding the real deal feels like striking gold.
Even the shake felt oldtimey,
as if it had been made with real milk and some OK ice cream, which swam in clumps near the bottom. I soaked in the small-town-cafe atmosphere as regulars came and went, chatting over biscuits
and sausage gravy and eggs over easy. I gazed upon the testimonial drawings left by generations of local youngsters. I pondered the gaping hole that would be left in the Willowbrook/Westbury social
fabric if Annie’s — familyowned for three decades and counting — were to disappear.
Then I tweeted a photo of my onion rings, asking if anyone could identify the source and bracing for a torrent of “How could you breakfast on something so unhealthy” replies. Instead came an outpouring of fond nostalgia and not a single “So early? Yuck.” Hundreds of people chimed in with guesses and favorite onion rings that I — a shameless o-ring hound — had never even considered.
“Mel’s Country Cafe,” guessed one. “New Prince’s,” offered another, which was a good guess. “Champs,” insisted more than a few. Lankford, Pappas Burger, Miller’s Cafe. Kenny & Ziggy’s deli said someone, surprising me. A couple people ventured Southwell’s. Tookie’s and The Breakfast Klub and Dot Coffee Shop popped up.
So now I have a list of prospects with which to continue my decades of research. When I’ve arrived at my final Onion Ring Power Ranking, you’ll hear about it.