Agave Grill

For our final Masters-free meal at Agave, Laura and I are seated in the back of the main room, where the bistro-not-cantina vibe is strongest. We devour chile-marinated rock shrimp wrapped up inside mini black-bean gorditas, an absolutely gorgeous and unbelievably delicious pork tamale (the pig braised in achiote before being wrapped in light, sweet masa dough) and deconstructed beef tacos made with cubed, marinated Kobe on a plate of jicama slaw, tortillas and a half-dozen sauces. Then comes Clevenger's low-country-meets-Tex-Mex version of chicken and waffles: perfectly golden-brown, seared free-range chicken breasts, the skin crisp, the meat impossibly juicy, reclining against a quartered pecan waffle made with a rice batter and spiked with herbs, the whole thing sitting in a tequila-maple "sauce" that isn't even close to syrup (and probably isn't supposed to be) and tastes burnt. A plate of chicken and waffles needs the sweetness of syrup to make it work; this doesn't have it.