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America’s absolutely worst restaurant and food
How do people eat this stuff?
It’s hard to ruin shrimp.
Has to be, hands down — no offense to our hugely overworked waiter Rick, 45, some previous history but struggling to come back a bit (the waiter not the restaurant) — Corte Madera, Cheesecake Factory. My god and little fishes, I’ve had some bad meals, but that place is a nightmare.
Well, I had an injured kid. He went to the dentist three days before, had some nitrous and Novocaine. The Doc said, last words, “Be careful, don’t chew your lip,” but G., daring, offensive to authority, chewed a hole in his lip so big it frightened everyone, Mom, me, Sis. It looked like a big piece of exposed flesh, as if he was bit by a shark, meat hanging down, but I digress. I called the dentist and he said, “Well, text me a picture for my record, but it will get swollen, painful, and he’ll feel awful.” Which he did. Remarkably, ibuprofen knocked down the pain pretty well, but a 500 mile drive to San Francisco set him on edge a bit. He’s eight, more or less.
My wife is pretty cheap, so we ate Costco food all day, but my daughter said she had to have a real meal. I begged off and negotiated a meal by myself at the attached Indian restaurant, and the rest of the family went to the CCF. I knew it was a stupid mistake, but the sick, injured kid made me feel guilty enough to go to the chain American corporate disgusto place even though I knew, knew, it would be a disaster. But it was far more disgusting than I thought.
We ordered some appetizers for our injured, non-eating, underweight kid. Something called “tater tots extras, especial” or something, which turned out to be ground mashed potatoes loaded with bacon bits and fried in extra hot grease, served with sour cream. I thought these were good for the anorexic injured one who hadn’t eaten his morning shake. (We were trying to get calories in him. His mouth is so bad he can’t eat. He normally doesn’t eat, has very low body fat, and I get enraged at how he won’t eat anything in the best of times, but now it hurts him to eat. He will usually only eat mac & cheese, the worst kind, or ramen, or pasta and white sauce, but this was actually frightening.) They were salty and greasy, and thank god, he actually ate some.
And thus we also ordered for him a child’s version of spaghetti and meatball, for the twins fried shrimp with fries (mmm, good for the tank-people), and a shrimp and angelhair for the girl. My wife and I would split a Caesar salad, $17, SO YOU’D THINK IT WOULD BE EDIBLE BUT IT WASN’T, JUST BIG, NASTY…sorry about the all caps.
I knew the twins wouldn’t eat theirs, and they didn’t, and so I had a taste of everything, and everything was awful. The salad was a whole giant plate of lettuce with some indescribable cheese and greasy shit all over it. But at least it was big. It was an entire giant plate of this horrible mess, too much for two people, or three.
The kids’ spaghetti and meatball looked weirdish, like a mountain of pasta with a red pimple on top, which turned out to be the meatball, not more offensive than a Costco meatball but not any better, and the tomato sauce — so, so weird. Poor Rick had to offer something like a hard cheese to grate ever it. I’m sure he knew better, as in what is this horrible stuff, but he had no choice.
My beautiful daughter had shrimp scampi on angel hair, which was no more angel hair than the spaghetti/meatball mountain that the poor underpaid Mexicans in the back had prepped for anything and everything else. And the shrimp was cooked to a dry-ish god knows what. It’s hard to ruin shrimp, but I’ve seen it done a couple times, and this was the best/worst I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. I saw a beautiful Italian break out in tears once because she was hungry and the restaurant overcooked the shrimp (cocktail), but this was worse. My daughter wouldn’t eat them, and we packed it all up, to be thrown away the next day.
Twin boy had fried (over-fried) shrimp battered in panko with ketchup or whitish sauce. There were about a dozen — I ate three, he ate four, and the rest are in the motel reefer to be eaten tomorrow or thrown into the swamp behind us. How recherché.
I’m a bit of a foodie. I once tried to make tortelli di zucca ( too drunk, and no idea how they ought to taste, and the pasta was awful) and the first time I tried to make pesto I used dried basil (the woman involved blanched and went home and despaired of me, thank god). But not a snob, I hope. Anything at least tried at, and honest I’ll try to swallow, but the whole 20-minute wait for this awful stuff. The overworked Rick (or whatever), I gave him 20. I don’t mind a mistake, but the actual corporate horror of this pissed me off. The kids like the cheesecake, but we took it away and it was slimy, disgusting. I wish I’d taken the Indian and the guilt. No one would have been wiser, and I wouldn’t have written this.
Here's something you might be interested in.
America’s absolutely worst restaurant and food
How do people eat this stuff?
America’s absolutely worst restaurant and food
How do people eat this stuff?
It’s hard to ruin shrimp.
Has to be, hands down — no offense to our hugely overworked waiter Rick, 45, some previous history but struggling to come back a bit (the waiter not the restaurant) — Corte Madera, Cheesecake Factory. My god and little fishes, I’ve had some bad meals, but that place is a nightmare.
Well, I had an injured kid. He went to the dentist three days before, had some nitrous and Novocaine. The Doc said, last words, “Be careful, don’t chew your lip,” but G., daring, offensive to authority, chewed a hole in his lip so big it frightened everyone, Mom, me, Sis. It looked like a big piece of exposed flesh, as if he was bit by a shark, meat hanging down, but I digress. I called the dentist and he said, “Well, text me a picture for my record, but it will get swollen, painful, and he’ll feel awful.” Which he did. Remarkably, ibuprofen knocked down the pain pretty well, but a 500 mile drive to San Francisco set him on edge a bit. He’s eight, more or less.
My wife is pretty cheap, so we ate Costco food all day, but my daughter said she had to have a real meal. I begged off and negotiated a meal by myself at the attached Indian restaurant, and the rest of the family went to the CCF. I knew it was a stupid mistake, but the sick, injured kid made me feel guilty enough to go to the chain American corporate disgusto place even though I knew, knew, it would be a disaster. But it was far more disgusting than I thought.
We ordered some appetizers for our injured, non-eating, underweight kid. Something called “tater tots extras, especial” or something, which turned out to be ground mashed potatoes loaded with bacon bits and fried in extra hot grease, served with sour cream. I thought these were good for the anorexic injured one who hadn’t eaten his morning shake. (We were trying to get calories in him. His mouth is so bad he can’t eat. He normally doesn’t eat, has very low body fat, and I get enraged at how he won’t eat anything in the best of times, but now it hurts him to eat. He will usually only eat mac & cheese, the worst kind, or ramen, or pasta and white sauce, but this was actually frightening.) They were salty and greasy, and thank god, he actually ate some.
And thus we also ordered for him a child’s version of spaghetti and meatball, for the twins fried shrimp with fries (mmm, good for the tank-people), and a shrimp and angelhair for the girl. My wife and I would split a Caesar salad, $17, SO YOU’D THINK IT WOULD BE EDIBLE BUT IT WASN’T, JUST BIG, NASTY…sorry about the all caps.
I knew the twins wouldn’t eat theirs, and they didn’t, and so I had a taste of everything, and everything was awful. The salad was a whole giant plate of lettuce with some indescribable cheese and greasy shit all over it. But at least it was big. It was an entire giant plate of this horrible mess, too much for two people, or three.
The kids’ spaghetti and meatball looked weirdish, like a mountain of pasta with a red pimple on top, which turned out to be the meatball, not more offensive than a Costco meatball but not any better, and the tomato sauce — so, so weird. Poor Rick had to offer something like a hard cheese to grate ever it. I’m sure he knew better, as in what is this horrible stuff, but he had no choice.
My beautiful daughter had shrimp scampi on angel hair, which was no more angel hair than the spaghetti/meatball mountain that the poor underpaid Mexicans in the back had prepped for anything and everything else. And the shrimp was cooked to a dry-ish god knows what. It’s hard to ruin shrimp, but I’ve seen it done a couple times, and this was the best/worst I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. I saw a beautiful Italian break out in tears once because she was hungry and the restaurant overcooked the shrimp (cocktail), but this was worse. My daughter wouldn’t eat them, and we packed it all up, to be thrown away the next day.
Twin boy had fried (over-fried) shrimp battered in panko with ketchup or whitish sauce. There were about a dozen — I ate three, he ate four, and the rest are in the motel reefer to be eaten tomorrow or thrown into the swamp behind us. How recherché.
I’m a bit of a foodie. I once tried to make tortelli di zucca ( too drunk, and no idea how they ought to taste, and the pasta was awful) and the first time I tried to make pesto I used dried basil (the woman involved blanched and went home and despaired of me, thank god). But not a snob, I hope. Anything at least tried at, and honest I’ll try to swallow, but the whole 20-minute wait for this awful stuff. The overworked Rick (or whatever), I gave him 20. I don’t mind a mistake, but the actual corporate horror of this pissed me off. The kids like the cheesecake, but we took it away and it was slimy, disgusting. I wish I’d taken the Indian and the guilt. No one would have been wiser, and I wouldn’t have written this.
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