A former personal assistant of Waffle House's CEO accused him of forcing her to "perform sexual services," among other degrading acts, during her nine years of working for him, according to an Atlanta police report.

Police blacked out the woman's name in the report, but gave a graphic account of her accusation, based on an interview that she gave Atlanta police on September 28. CNN obtained a copy of the police report Friday, as news of the allegations against Joseph Rogers Jr. spread around the media.
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When CNN highlighted some excellent historic restaurants in major cities across the country last month, readers wondered why their small-town and smaller-city favorites didn't make the cut. Thus, in this follow-up tribute to more laudable veteran restaurants, we've zeroed in - thanks to suggestions from our commenters - on the decades-old, and in certain cases centuries-old, icons that thrive outside of America's biggest metropolises.

Columbia Restaurant, 1905

The Hernandez/Gonzmart family claims the title of Florida's oldest restaurant and America's oldest Spanish restaurant with their 107-year-old icon Columbia in the Ybor City area of Tampa. What started as a corner cafe for the cigar workers in town has ballooned into a 1,700-seat restaurant specializing in Cuban and Spanish cuisine. Live jazz and flamenco shows are offered on most nights, and the gift shop comes complete with cigar rolling demonstrations in the afternoon. The restaurant expanded with locations across Florida - including one in Tampa International Airport - but the locals still stop in here for the famous Cuban sandwiches, the 1905 salad, tossed tableside and the old-school Spanish decor.
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Editor's Note: Byron Hurt is a documentary filmmaker whose latest film, Soul Food Junkies, is scheduled to broadcast on PBS’ Independent Lens in January 2013.

A friend of mine called me Thursday evening and asked, “Did you hear the news about Sylvia?”

I knew right away which Sylvia my friend was referring to. Something must have happened to Ms. Sylvia Woods, the pioneering restaurateur whose soul food gave so many people comfort.
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Legendary restaurateur Sylvia Woods, known internationally as the Queen of Soul Food, passed away on Thursday, according to a statement issued by her family. She was 86.

“Sylvia gallantly battled Alzheimer's for the past several years, but never once lost her loving smile,” her family said. She died peacefully surrounded by loved ones at her Westchester home.

Woods’ world-renowned Harlem establishment, Sylvia’s, has drawn celebrities, politicians, tourists and locals alike to eat its famed soul food for more than 50 years.
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A person might think that a job as a food editor entails downing metric tons of beluga caviar and silver-plated Big Gulps of vintage Krug Champagne at lunch (Double Big Gulp at dinner) seven days a week. That person would be wrong - for the most part.

While the vast majority of my meals are taken while huddled over a plastic clamshell of CNN cafeteria salad bar scraps, I’m occasionally let out of my crate and allowed to sup amongst the humans. And yeah - sometimes it gets fancy. For some reason, this usually necessitates the presence of archaic silverware.
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Last week, Milwaukee lost a walking institution when Frank “Pepperoni Cannoli Guy” Pecoraro died. He was 76.

To those born and raised in Brew City, it’s fair to say the East Side nightlife scene wouldn’t be complete without spotting him with a cooler full of snacks.

Standing barely over five-feet tall, Pecoraro could be seen walking for miles on end carrying - you guessed it - pepperoni and cannoli inside his signature blue and white cooler.

Having immigrated to the United States during the 1960s from Italy, he had a distinct bellowing voice that would grow hoarse by the end of the night after repeatedly calling out, “Pepperoni! Cannoli!”
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Once upon a time, I had a perfect romantic meal. It was ten years ago, but that doesn't much matter. The restaurant, by design, existed outside of time – mid-century French fanciness, untouched by fad or fashion. It seemed not outside the realm of possibility that the same tuxedoed waiters had been escorting the same fresh-faced and helium-bosomed young ladies (and their uncomfortably collared "uncles") to starched and sumptuous banquettes since the restaurant's opening in 1960, and that the maitre d' had air-kissed the same doyenne's surgically-taut cheek with the exact vim and deference he had since the year her Chanel suit was new.

It was Valentine's Day, and for a girl who frequently sported combat boots and a battle-scarred heart, this was as close to Hollywood l'amour as I'd ever gotten. In previous Februaries, I'd poured my heart into handmade cards, meticulously-chosen poetry volumes (and the occasional glass of single malt for myself), and had received, on various occasions a power drill, "I dunno - where do you wanna eat?", "Oh shoot...we're doing this?" and inevitably the bill for whatever entertainment ensued.
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If you must waffle on Valentine's Day, don't make it about who you're taking to dinner. The "where" is a lock: Waffle House.

WALB reports that some Waffle Houses across the chain's 15-state span are tossing tablecloths over the formica and chrome, dimming the lights, pouring alcohol-free sparkling drinks and emphasizing menu items like ribeye and eggs, porkchops or T-bones in addition to their perhaps better-known breakfast fare.
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If at some point my rapidly advancing decrepitude becomes just too much for me to bear, I'm not too fussed. I have a plan. I'm going to quit my job, my home, my life up North and seek employment at the first outpost of the K&W Cafeteria chain that will have me. By all reputable accounts, no one who works there has ever aged so much as a day since they opened in 1937.

I have no empirical proof that this is true. I've only been aware of the existence of the K&W for the past seven years, but I've been privy to enough anecdotal accounts to suggest that the "congeal" molecule in a K&W tomato aspic is the key to life eternal. This was, in fact, a discovery made by the owners - members of an alien race who came to Earth many decades ago to study us and keep us in their sway via the power of luscious gravy, sweet tea and reasonable prices on classic Southern cafeteria-style food. And, I'm cool with it.
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Normally a table for four at New York's storied "Elaine's" restaurant required nothing more than a reservation. That hard to get table known as "Table Number One with Four Chairs" is no longer available following it's sale Tuesday at auction for $8,750, far exceeding the pre-sale estimate of $400- $600.

Doyle's Auction house hosted the auction featuring the contents of not only the famed literary and celebrity haunt, but also personal artwork, books, memorabilia, furniture, decorations, fashion and accessories that the legendary owner, Elaine Kaufman who died in December 2010, collected or was given.
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