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Aug 07, 2008, 05:59AM

The Wal-Mart of Fine Dining

Soulless calorie warehouse, overpriced suburban wasteland, perpetuator of class differences: Welcome to the Cheesecake Factory.

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Photo by ishane, the Flickr page caption for which happens to be exemplary of this article's point.

This recession knows no mercy; my family’s local Bennigan’s has been torn down and replaced by high-rise condos. It was the Bennigan’s of my childhood, the place where I celebrated five birthdays, though it feels like I spent every one there. Fried cheese and brownie bottom pies filled my heart with joy and sent my cholesterol through the roof. For years the chain stood as a monument to dependable, unpretentious American middle-class dining. Now, Bennigan’s is more or less dead.

While my favorite childhood restaurant kicks around in a somewhat-difficult-to-watch death rattle, those fuckers over at The Cheesecake Factory are celebrating their 30th anniversary. I am going to write this in capital letters so you understand I am not screwing around: THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY SUCKS.

I used to be like you. I used to nod my head in hypnotized agreement every time some otherwise sane person would say things like, “You know, The Cheesecake Factory is really good” or “I hate most of that chain restaurant shit, but, man, Cheesecake is kind of bomb.” Any time “Cheesecake” was a potential dinner option, I always wholeheartedly agreed.

The “Cheesecake” in my town is right next to a movie theater. The next closest one is also right next to a movie theater. The closest one after that is right next to the aquarium. Anecdotal evidence from friends around the country has led me to believe this is a trend. There needs to be a distraction nearby that can occupy upwards of three hours, since that’s more or less the average waiting time to get a table at the restaurant. Three hours. I have seen it with my own eyes on several occasions. We’re not talking about Dorsia here; we’re talking about “Cheesecake.”

A standard Factory experience proceeds something like this: First, you have to choose at least two nearby restaurant backup plans because your first backup is usually filled up with the first batch of rejects from The Factory. Picking one restaurant is often difficult enough, but three is usually impossible.

Once contingency plans are worked out, you have to sit through that dreadful car trip. The anxiety in the cabin is palpable, as you wait for a moment of truth and finally see that line stretching out the front door and down the block. The driver flies through shortcuts and back roads hoping to catch that one nearby parking spot that could be the difference between dinner at The Factory and the walk of shame to the Pizzeria Uno, followed by the even worse indignity of resorting to the mall food court after seeing the line at Uno’s.

Even if you do get in quickly, I just don’t see the appeal. The menu is more intimidating than stepping on someone’s new sneaker and realizing you just crossed Kimbo Slice. Seriously, check out the menu. God, just look at that insane variation: pizza, steaks, omelettes, seafood, desserts, cheesecakes (a separate category), sandwiches. Within each category you find every culinary tradition represented: Japanese-influenced Ahi Tuna, Mexican fish tacos, and Cajun jambalaya. I am so freaked out by the menu that I order the same thing every time: the grilled cheese. There are too many options that don’t make any sense, and it just plain boggles me. A seafood restaurant specializes in seafood, so you know you’re getting the real thing. The Factory, on the other hand, has no culinary identity.

Let’s pause here for a moment. Who cares, right? But here’s the thing: The Factory may not have a food-based identity, but it does have an identity. The Cheesecake Factory has sold itself as a pseudo-exclusive fine dining restaurant for the middle class. It is high culture for the middle and lower class and acceptable kitsch for the upper class. It isn’t $40-an-entrée kind of place, but it is a bit expensive.

Their reputation is based on having three-hour waits and that is it. This isn’t a wolf parading around in sheep’s clothing—it’s a wolf parading around in lion’s clothing. The Factory is essentially an everything-under-one-roof-beat-out-mom-and-pop-store Wal-Mart for people who often look down on Wal-Mart. It offers bogus exclusivity: if you wait long enough or time your visit just right, you’ll get in and prove you’re smarter than everyone else.

What troubles me about The Factory isn’t its ability to occupy multiple spaces on the social strata—it’s the particularly manipulative way they’ve done it. It’s not a 10-table boutique restaurant in Soho, it’s a massive countrywide chain that presents faux-exclusivity and plays on people’s anxieties and stereotypes about acceptance, class, and being cool. Half of the people in the restaurant, those that are maybe a bit nervous that they’d never fit in at the local chic upscale steakhouse, get to pretend they’re getting that fancy vibe while the other half of the restaurant is quietly mocking them from the privacy of their mammoth booths. The Cheesecake Factory dining experience has become a subtle exercise in class/dining relations and appearing either cultured or uncultured depending on what you’d rather be. It forces you to choose which “side” of society you embody with the way you react to your dining choice.

If you’ve ever seen a Travel Channel show, you’ve probably heard the mantra that food explains a lot about a country’s culture, and I agree. You’ve also probably heard Anthony Bourdain bitch about the American chain culture and general dining habits. I love Bourdain, but screw that. Bennigan’s is what is, knows what it is, and I love it. I’ve had meals at Bennigan’s infinitely more pleasurable than fine dining, in America or abroad.

The Cheesecake Factory, though, is what’s wrong. It belies some of our lesser qualities and our food culture criticisms—we’re complacently willing to experience the inauthentic rather than leave our comfort zone. This same place also plays up some of the country’s social divisions. So next time you’re thinking about a trip to The Factory, hold up for one second. Maybe try that new family-owned Mexican place up the street. Or dress up a little and check out that classy Italian joint because the cheesecake will be better there anyway.

Discussion
  • The Cheesecake Factory is really no different from Applebees, Chili's, Uno's, Ruby Tuesday, etc. It's fast food in a restaurant setting. I've seen some Factories around town, and they always look empty to me. Maybe it's a Michigan thing.

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  • Mek, I'm glad you are looking out for all those mom and pop stores out there like Bennigan's.

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  • Exactly! Just because you have a nostalgic bond to Bennigan's, doesn't make it any less corporate or impersonal. It's a chain, and so is the Cheesecake Factory. You're just grown up now. I'm sure there are thousands of kids who have the same connection that you had with Bennigan's to your enemy Factory. Deal.

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  • It's not a Michigan thing, it's nationwide as far as Cheesecake Factories go, and they are odious, just like Olive's Garden and the others that Eureka mentioned. The food is almost always crummy, the service too chirpy, and often over-priced. But Americans in general, don't really care about the quality of food. And good riddance to Bennigan's, one of the worst of the lot.

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  • What I was suggesting was that Cheesecake Factories are only immensely popular in Michigan, but I doubt that's the case. Also, for a long time I thought they just sold Cheesecake.

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  • I'll defer to the cheesecake expert above, but the author is completely correct when he says that better cheesecake is available in most restaurants.

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  • maybe your parents' Bennigans was good, but I always thought Bennigans was boring. I don't think the fact that The Cheesecake Factory attempts to have dishes from many different cuisines makes it Wal-Mart-like at all; it just shows that our globalized generation likes more diverse types of food. Also, I've never seen a Cheesecake factory that busy.

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  • i've never been to cheesecake factory or bennigans, but when i used to live in manhattan there was a restaurant in the west village called shopsin's . the menu was enormous and while you could order anything from chop suey to frito pie, it was all horrible. and periodically the owner/cook would just refuse to serve a table if he didn't approve of their order.

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  • Bennigans isn't just boring, it sucks. The author probably does have fond memories of it as a kid, but, c'mon, it's just like any other chain. And what's this about the walk of shame to Pizzeria Uno's, I happen to like that place much more than the factory or Benigans. This was interesting though, as I didn't know Benigans was going under, and I didn't know the Cheesecake factory sucked. Oh, and cool picture of Kimbo.

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  • Just to clear something up and protect the name of the Great Lakes State: there are no Cheesecake Factories in Michigan. They're actually primarily on the coasts and in major metropolitan areas. Check it: http://www.thecheesecakefactory.com/locations.htm

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  • so funny. i went to the cheesecake factory in saint louis in the galleria, and my cousin thought it was the hottest shit around. being from new york and all, i was like... um ... are you kidding? the bartender was way hot, though.

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  • Is this the place that Bruce Springsteen used to sing about?

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  • Never been to a Bennigans but it sounds like OUTBACK STEAK HOUSE, which I love. Everything is good there: everything. Oh and at the cheescake factory everyone is snobs.

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  • For all the flack places like Applebee's and Chili's have gotten, I don't think they're all that bad. I mean sure, it's fast food dressed up, but it's cheap and it is at least a few steps above the dreck that McDonald's serves.

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  • Uh, Pumpkin, the food at Applebee's and Chili's, and all the other places one rung above McDonald's IS generally awful. And it's not that cheap, certainly not compared to what you can make at home, where you can control the ingredients and don't have to put up with terrible service. I like going out, too, but to local places where you're not just a number and can establish a rapport with the staff.

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  • Believe me, I love local and independent restaurants and would rather eat at one than a chain any day. But again, the food isn't that bad and it really isn't that expensive. When you're in an area that has no good mom and pop places, places like chili's are the next best thing.

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  • PumpkinTime, as you live in DC, I find it hard to believe you can't find any relatively inexpensive--and probably cheaper--mom & pop places to eat than the chains. Adams Morgan, for example, while gentrified almost to the same extent as Manhattan's East Village, still has a bunch of great Latin American restaurants.

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  • Okay, now our food has to be indie, too. You know not all mom and pop restaurants are great, in fact, a lot of them suck.

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  • Globertrotter's right that a lot of mom 'n pop places are terrible, but they're still distinct from chain restaurants. I went to a cheap Mexican place last night, and though the food was pretty awful, the decor was really fun and the waitresses and waiters weren't robots.

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  • I wonder how many Cheesecake Factories have closed since this article was written last summer.

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