I had never been to The Cheesecake Factory before, though I've seen them around. But tonight, having picked up my companion at the airport and rushed straight to the gigantic mall so that she could replace some of the key facial and toilette products that (being liquids) had been stowed in her checked baggage which, alas, dematerialized en route to SFO, and, finding ourselves starving and the Cheesecake Factory so close to hand, we decided "let's."
The vaulted ceilings, rococo design elements and art deco colonnade made as if to prepare me for the sprawling profusion of the menu - yet still it was too much to take in. Page after laminated page of Italian next to Thai next to Tex-Mex next to good ol' fashioned Meat Loaf (excuse me - "meatloaf" - not the singer) next to filet mignon, next to (swear to God) Hungarian goulash, and on and on. I just chose the first thing that looked likely, and an ice tea to go with it. My date ordered a mixed greens salad and a chicken piccata.
We also ordered a cheesy spinachy dippy thing, but this never came, so que sera sera I guess.
The people seated next to us, two young men and a young woman, regaled each other (and unfortunately, us) with tales of Rome, particularly of the Vatican and its amazing Swiss Guard, who apparently dress like court jesters but carry poleaxes, may or may not actually be Swiss, and may or may not have uzis tucked away "just in case things get serious." As our beverages arrived I caught my sweetheart's eye and suggested that now would be a fine time for one of our special haughty and erudite conversations. She demurred (tired out from the flight).
My ice tea was tinged with raspberry. Apparently people are still doing that.
When our salads came, they were enormous; but as we both were famished this was looked at favorably. My endive pecan salad with bleu cheese was very self-assured, and with good reason. The Belgian endives, radicchio, and arugula, accented with glazed pecans, just enough crumbled bleu cheese, and a touch of vinaigrette - this approached to as perfect an expression of the "bitter greens" school of the salad-maker's art as I've had in a long time. It lacked but one ingredient that could have tied it all together and made it sing: where were the hearts of palm?
Across the table, she pronounced her mixed greens salad "solid," and I had no desire to gainsay her on the point (but was that iceberg lettuce in there??).
Our entrees arrived - to our momentary confusion as the appetizer we'd ordered did not - but one glance at those laden plates gave us every assurance that no further appetizing would be necessary. My darling's chicken piccata was surmounted by a heavenly mound of angel hair pasta, which in turn was surrounded by mushrooms, plump and delicious. The chicken cutlets themselves were done to a golden turn. An A+ plus for presentation, and though I couldn't bring myself to try a full bite of it, I did dip a bit of oven-fresh squaw bread into the sauce, and found it quite saucy! Full of an agreeable zing, for which the capers must justly be credited.
The reason I was reticent to dig into my love's chicken piccata was that I had my own hands full with the Tons Of Fun Burger that I'd ordered. Two all-beef patties, "secret sauce," lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun. Wait! Does that sound familiar? That's right - it's the Big Mac! Which was pretty much what I'd guessed from the menu entry. The description of the dish led me to expect what a Big Mac might be if someone tried to make one from scratch with real ingredients. And I must say, this burger approached to that lofty expectation. A solid two-handed burger, with the unexpected bonus of some quite lovely and light-tasting fries to go with. I found myself oversalting the fries to further echo my golden early memories of McDo'.
The party at the next table had moved on to the topic of music. One of the lads was talking about the Manic Street Preachers, leading the lass to inquire, "who are they? I've never heard of them." Laddie replied, "oh, you probably wouldn't have. They're more of a European band."
I very nearly smiled.
By then it was time to think about dessert, and the thought that immediately came to mind was, "are you insane? After those portions?" But it was, after all, The Cheesecake Factory. And I do so love cheesecake. I found I hadn't the heart to leave without ordering a slice - although certainly not a slice adulterated with all manner of chocolate peanut-butter cup brownie crunch madness! - styles towards which they seemed to have a pronounced leaning. I'm more of a purist. I ordered a slice of their classic cherry-preserves-topped plain cheesecake, "to go."
I'll let you know how that turns out.
The vaulted ceilings, rococo design elements and art deco colonnade made as if to prepare me for the sprawling profusion of the menu - yet still it was too much to take in. Page after laminated page of Italian next to Thai next to Tex-Mex next to good ol' fashioned Meat Loaf (excuse me - "meatloaf" - not the singer) next to filet mignon, next to (swear to God) Hungarian goulash, and on and on. I just chose the first thing that looked likely, and an ice tea to go with it. My date ordered a mixed greens salad and a chicken piccata.
We also ordered a cheesy spinachy dippy thing, but this never came, so que sera sera I guess.
The people seated next to us, two young men and a young woman, regaled each other (and unfortunately, us) with tales of Rome, particularly of the Vatican and its amazing Swiss Guard, who apparently dress like court jesters but carry poleaxes, may or may not actually be Swiss, and may or may not have uzis tucked away "just in case things get serious." As our beverages arrived I caught my sweetheart's eye and suggested that now would be a fine time for one of our special haughty and erudite conversations. She demurred (tired out from the flight).
My ice tea was tinged with raspberry. Apparently people are still doing that.
When our salads came, they were enormous; but as we both were famished this was looked at favorably. My endive pecan salad with bleu cheese was very self-assured, and with good reason. The Belgian endives, radicchio, and arugula, accented with glazed pecans, just enough crumbled bleu cheese, and a touch of vinaigrette - this approached to as perfect an expression of the "bitter greens" school of the salad-maker's art as I've had in a long time. It lacked but one ingredient that could have tied it all together and made it sing: where were the hearts of palm?
Across the table, she pronounced her mixed greens salad "solid," and I had no desire to gainsay her on the point (but was that iceberg lettuce in there??).
Our entrees arrived - to our momentary confusion as the appetizer we'd ordered did not - but one glance at those laden plates gave us every assurance that no further appetizing would be necessary. My darling's chicken piccata was surmounted by a heavenly mound of angel hair pasta, which in turn was surrounded by mushrooms, plump and delicious. The chicken cutlets themselves were done to a golden turn. An A+ plus for presentation, and though I couldn't bring myself to try a full bite of it, I did dip a bit of oven-fresh squaw bread into the sauce, and found it quite saucy! Full of an agreeable zing, for which the capers must justly be credited.
The reason I was reticent to dig into my love's chicken piccata was that I had my own hands full with the Tons Of Fun Burger that I'd ordered. Two all-beef patties, "secret sauce," lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun. Wait! Does that sound familiar? That's right - it's the Big Mac! Which was pretty much what I'd guessed from the menu entry. The description of the dish led me to expect what a Big Mac might be if someone tried to make one from scratch with real ingredients. And I must say, this burger approached to that lofty expectation. A solid two-handed burger, with the unexpected bonus of some quite lovely and light-tasting fries to go with. I found myself oversalting the fries to further echo my golden early memories of McDo'.
The party at the next table had moved on to the topic of music. One of the lads was talking about the Manic Street Preachers, leading the lass to inquire, "who are they? I've never heard of them." Laddie replied, "oh, you probably wouldn't have. They're more of a European band."
I very nearly smiled.
By then it was time to think about dessert, and the thought that immediately came to mind was, "are you insane? After those portions?" But it was, after all, The Cheesecake Factory. And I do so love cheesecake. I found I hadn't the heart to leave without ordering a slice - although certainly not a slice adulterated with all manner of chocolate peanut-butter cup brownie crunch madness! - styles towards which they seemed to have a pronounced leaning. I'm more of a purist. I ordered a slice of their classic cherry-preserves-topped plain cheesecake, "to go."
I'll let you know how that turns out.
Comments
Did you ever tell about the take-home cheesecake? Do. I usually end up taking the dessert home as well. And like you, I prefer the simpler cheesecakes, like the one with fresh strawberries. But if you're ever there again, you can always do the take-home of entree leftovers thing and then have one of the only-there kind of desserts like the strawberry shortcake or apple dumpling. I recommend that. Oh boy, do I recommend that! Especially the shortcake. Which is actually a biscuit construction, not a cake. I also recommend trying the chocolate cake with the sprinkles on the side (they have two choco cakes, the other one is not cakey enough) if take-home dessert is an option again. Oh, and skip trying the spinach dip (it's the same as everywhere else, and it's really only good in a place that gives you veggies as dip-vehicles) and get the thai salad rolls. Yum!
Also, I just caught the hearts of palm comment. I don't think that would go well in that salad, as much as I love hearts of palm. The salads there are really good. They used to have a southern chicken one with toasted pecans on it also, and Y-U-M.
That appetizer mixup and order hullybully kind of stuff does happen on occasion, though. And if you're someone who likes to really devote time to the appetizer, I'd suggest ordering that and waiting until you've made a dent in it before ordering the entrees.
Oh, and "European" for Manic Street Preachers? How old were these people?
I want to tell my story, still, and will, but tonight I had a request about Lean Pockets. . . ;)