The Brunch Project, Part 3

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Today was one of those lovely California winter days, warm and sunny and blue with the streets jammed full of cute guys in tee shirts.  If you had seen the arms on this redhead in the subway, you would join me in cheering on global warming.

I was out in their midst because I had a doctor appointment down in the excessively touristy neighborhood of Union Square.  Since Secret Agent Fred lives near there, we agreed to join up for an afternoon of boy ogling and brunch.  I know 4:00 pm is not considered “brunch” by many of the narrow minded but since I don’t get up until 2:00 in the afternoon any more, I figure it’s my brunch if I say so.  Bitches.

Trying to eat in the middle of the afternoon has its drawbacks, mostly, the very few places serving.  So we wound up in the Cheesecake Factory, on the top floor of Macy’s.  I know, I know.  We live in a city renowned for its exciting and varied dining scene and we tuck into a chain that you could find in Boise.  

A menu that’s a book.  Twenty two pages.   I looked for a table of content, but couldn’t find it.  The waitress was charming and laughed at how perplexed we were by the size of it.  “Lunch is on page 8,” she tipped us.

I ordered a salad off the “Skinnylicous” menu because I  sort of love made up words.  I have no idea what the “skinny” part was supposed to be, since when it came it was a huge mound of greens, a couple of pounds at least, with all sorts of odd scraps dumped on, goat cheese and chicken and mushy pears.  It had absolutely no flavor except sort of sweet, as if the dressing was made out of liquified Milky Way bars.  As most of the other patrons were enormous fat chicks, I suppose the management knows what the customers demand.

Fortunately, I also had ordered fish and chips, definitely not skinny-anything, but tasty.  And then we spilt a piece of cheesecake for desert.

I give them a D, mostly because it is exactly the kind of evil corporate dining experience you expect.  And the coffee sucked.

19 responses »

  1. To quote Kate Bush “The wind is whistling through the house” like a screaming banshee over here. I knocked breakfast on the head years ago, I just can't face anything to eat (except for cocks) til around 1pm. Nutritionists bleat on about the importance of a good breakfast, but I say listen to your body, it'll tell you when it needs feeding. Pretentious menus are one of my pet hates or bête noire if you feel that way inclined, I came across an item on the menu in York called “chipped potatoes” I crossed it out with a pen and put “Chips” and “Jus de petit pois” Pea juice? WTF is that all about? this is England not the Cote d'fucking Azur, they can fuckoff!

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  2. I remember that Macy's!

    I didn't realize there was a “Cheezekake” Factory up there, however. We don't have such exotic eateries here. You'd have to go to Baton Rouge for that. We have an Al Copeland's (of Popeyes fame RIP)knockoff called “Louisiana Cheesecake Factory”.
    Oh, and you just *think* you've seen fat chicks.

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  3. I don't do chain restaurants if I can help it.
    I have always found that if one takes a whiff from the front door, one has already tasted everything on the menu…
    &
    In the mountains of Georgia, I am the thin pretty one.

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  4. I think the Simpsons came up with it first, but I can't help calling that place the Texas Cheesecake Depository. We have one now in Dubai; supposedly, it's had lines of 90 minutes or more ever since it opened last summer, so we've never dared go. Ah, the exotic Sandlands – it's right within hailing distance of a Red Lobster, a Chili's, a TGIFridays, and a PF Changs.

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  5. Luckily we don't have that eatery here but it is in Mobile. It's always been my policy to order the dish that's in the name of the restaurant. If it says Waffle House then you better order the waffle not chicken fried steak.

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  6. At least you (probably) didn't have to endure 'cocktail programs' and 'bread programs' or 'curated beer lists'. Or read the provenance of every fucking ingredient in your food. I love San Francisco, but the food prevention gets right under my tits!

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