We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
In The New Yorker, a Boston physician studies The Cheesecake Factory in an effort to decide whether Big Medicine can be more efficient and effective than the usual: Big Med. It begins:
It was Saturday night, and I was at the local Cheesecake Factory with my two teen-age daughters and three of their friends. You may know the chain: a hundred and sixty restaurants with a catalogue-like menu that, when I did a count, listed three hundred and eight dinner items (including the forty-nine on the “Skinnylicious” menu), plus a hundred and twenty-four choices of beverage. It’s a linen-napkin-and-tablecloth sort of place, but with something for everyone. There’s wine and wasabi-crusted ahi tuna, but there’s also buffalo wings and Bud Light. The kids ordered mostly comfort food—pot stickers, mini crab cakes, teriyaki chicken, Hawaiian pizza, pasta carbonara. I got a beet salad with goat cheese, white-bean hummus and warm flatbread, and the miso salmon.
The place is huge, but it’s invariably packed, and you can see why...
I'm no fan of Big Med - I practice Cottage Med and I prefer to do it my own way. However, it's a fascinating article and actually makes me want to try a meal at The Cheesecake Factory too. I had thought of it as a kind of cheesy place, but I love wasabi-crusted tuna as long as it is just seared.
I've been to our local one three times. First time was interesting, especially that engorged menu. Second time was less enamored of the new. Third time I'll never go there again. Prices, and resultant food, aren't worth it. Glitter and glitz, but no real substance. Not from a calorie viewpoint, mind, but value of a dollar.