a love letter to The Cheesecake Factory
I remember when everyone else abandoned you.
in the early 2010s, you started getting some bad press. the woke mob (the so-called “Center for Science in the Public Interest”) invented a farcical award for “Xtreme Eating.” in other words, an advocacy organization, dead set on denigrating fast foods in the name of “public interest,” created a list of the highest calorie menu items at fast/casual chains.
you swept those awards. you continue to do so today. you’ve never missed ranking on a single list.1
I don’t believe what the haters say. I think this is an accomplishment—a feat that requires self-knowledge and acceptance. to me, you are amazing.
I stood by you even when I encountered article after article about how “unhealthy” your foods were. I know that scaring your consumers away with calorie counts wasn’t your choice.2 your insistence on retaining the iconic SkinnyLicious menu, even expanding it—flipping off the “body positivity” movement that is trying to prevent us girlies from getting Skinny? that’s praxis.
these critiques of your food are simply class reductionist. unlike those hoity toity restaurants in the Big City, you are accessible to many. you don’t judge us for what we eat. you nourish us. you always have parking lots.
for our family, a special occasion called for a trip to you (or Olive Garden, another working class hero). birthday, graduations, and sometimes even holidays would warrant such treats.
you made us feel special and valued, like we could have, and deserved, what all the rich folks had too. we could eat in a dimmed cavern with textured and muraled walls, vaulted ceilings, plush booths, and designed-for-ambience bathrooms.
we were served (free) fresh, hot, warm bread baskets accompanied with butter (at the perfect temperature) while we waited for our meals.3 you’re always happy to provide more bread, too—free of charge. what a concept.
it seemed no expense was spared in conjuring the vaguely western but intentionally nondescript European motifs that adorn all 360 outposts across the US and Canada. it’s a type of experience we weren’t used to given our budgets and subsequent inability to access posh restaurants or hotels.
as the prevalence of mid-level dining options in the country wane, you have remained steadfast in your mission “to create an environment where absolute guest satisfaction is [your] highest priority.” some might say you have achieved that mission.
you were kind (or at least not rude) to us all alike: whether we shuffled in with backpacks and sneakers with fake IDs, or donned our Sunday Best, you didn’t silently judge us, trying to decide how long we should wait, where you should seat us (front room or bathroom-adjacent), or whether we were worthy of good or bad service. that’s real hospitality.
you are a great equalizer.
once I started making money, at 14, I immediately started pocketing some cash for trips to visit you. in subsequent years, you became our safe haven. during senior year, we’d play hooky, drive past the diner and the Hooters, and cross the highway, which boasted bougier offerings (you being one of them). that mall would never be associated with a Hooters—instead they flaunted a Houston’s and P. F. Chang’s. those restaurants were still generally out of reach for us. thank god for you.
you represented liberation. you encouraged our escape from our lame school campus and into the “real world,” a place we were so impatient to conquer. you gave us safety. you housed us—as long as we ordered a dish or two—when we ran away from vengeful teachers who tried to punish us for our outings. you are incredibly consistent and reliable. You are also undeniably witty.4
you represent abundance. to this day, shrinkflation and corporate price gouging be damned, you maintain portions that continue to stun me. bravo, you.
even though I’ve moved on to frequent the city restaurants where I live now, you will always be my home. your existence comforts me. even though I “got out,” thanks to you, families like mine will always have a place to celebrate. to be fed, warm, and loved.
as the rich get richer and the poor get trounced, you’ve committed a level of quality and service to the majority of Americans that no one could deny. I know your commitment will not change, you populist queen.5
xo, jane
for posterity, here is the definitive order for The Cheesecake Factory:
Espresso Martini (now with Ketel One vodka, Caffe Borghetti espresso liqueur, and Frangelico)
Avocado EggRolls
“Chinese” Chicken Salad
Santa Fe Salad
Louisiana Chicken Pasta
Banana Cheesecake
the most recent awards I could locate are from 2022.
in 2022, restaurants met a deadline to reveal caloric information for all of their menu items. The Cheesecake Factory was one of them.
pumpernickel. the pumpernickel.
how catchy is “Santa Fe Salad” or “Louisiana Chicken Pasta”? real ones will always say “Louisiana Chicken Pasta,” never just “chicken pasta.” it’s called branding, baby.