As Eaten On TV

Endless Summer (or at least favorites)

Hello Ammurrrica! 

My name is Gabriel Luis Manga.  I am a friend of Marisa’s from high school. We share a common love of great (although sometimes mediocre) food and wit.  Before I begin my review of Applebees’ newest promotion I believe you the reader should know a little more about me.  

I love bad food. This is not to say that I don’t eat healthy, I was raised on tofu, brown rice, and broccoli.  It is just that I also love bad food. I love shitty pork fried rice from Chinese food places that stay open until 3 AM.  I love KFC. I love anything fried. I go to the University of Michigan and work at a Cafeteria there. Sometimes when we serve cheesecake or fried chicken and I am working in the dishroom and an untouched piece of that item comes back, I will just eat it.  I have driven two hours each way with friends from school to go to a Sonic, and that was after a failed mission where we got lost in Ohio. Well worth it.  With this knowledge you can then imagine my excitement when on a boring Tuesday afternoon with most of my friends going back to school I witnessed the commercial (read vision) in the post above.  

at that moment I texted my good friend Mark, and the decision was made, that night we would partake in this extravaganza.  I rode my bike to the Cleveland Circle Applebees where I was surprised to find a bike rack.  I then asked myself, why does Applebees have a bike rack?  Think about the kind of people that ride bikes.  Then think about the kind of people that eat at Applebees.  Exactly.  Maybe they had just planned that someday Mark and I would ride our bikes there and that then, on that day, the installation of that bike rack would pay off.  Mark soon rolled into the parking lot and we locked out bikes to the previously never used bike rack.  As Mark locked his bike next to mine I thought I smelt the distinctive sent of Busch Light.  I asked him if he had been drinking.  The answer was yes.  Good times.

We entered Applebees and took in the atmosphere.  The Red Sox game on TV’s, subdued and maybe depressed couples, old people, and of course lots of Boston paraphernalia.   This ranged from the obvious Celtics and Red Sox posters and pennants to the more obscure pictures of the guy who played Starsky on of the TV show Starsky and Hutch.  Apparently Uma Thurmon is also from Boston because she was also on the wall.  It turns out she is actually from Amherst, but hey whose counting?  My personal favorite was the New Kids On The Block poster.  I had no need for a menu as I was on a mission.  Mark and I decided that we would get the total experience by having one of us order the “Riblets” and one of us the Chicken Fingers.  These would then be open to all both of us because they were endless.  Our waiter Anthony soon arrived.  It was pretty awkward.  He reminded both of us of that guy who takes Michael Cera and friends to the party in Superbad.  That and his matching of shorts with dress shoes and mid calf black socks.  He was also really really tan. Our meal soon arrived and the extravaganza began. 

The food also came with unlimited french fries, which was awesome.  They were really good and had a little seasoning.  Revelation number one came upon my first bite into my riblets.  Turns out, contrary to how they are portrayed on TV (or at least in my dreams), riblets are not boneless.  Riblets are just like Korean short ribs, only with BBQ sauce.  This isn’t that much of a bad thing, just a little shocking.  I wanted my money’s worth so I dug in.  Honey Mustard sauce also accompanied both Mark’s chicken fingers and my riblets.  Turns out Honey Mustard sauce isn’t really good with ribs.  I tried some of the Chicken Fingers and I must admit that I think those were probably the better decision.  Anthony then came back and took away our first plates and said he would be back out soon with another batch.  I scolded Mark for not finishing his Coleslaw.  

Anthony returned with our second helping, and as is the case with many all you can eat offers the portions and serving plate were smaller.  No mind though, because, it is all you can eat and the portions, no matter what side, are not allowed to stop, ever.  This process would continue twice more.  Mark and I then decided that after our third helping we would request one more, take a bite, and then ask for it to go.  Mark also had the plan for our return trip, in which we bring backpacks, and proceed to fill the backpacks with the limitless chicken fingers (riblets would require a plastic bag, and could get messy).  Mark also started to fill his pockets with chicken fingers wrapped in napkins.  A good move.  

Content with our endeavor we took our to-go boxes and left the magical hut that is Applebees.  Overall I believe it was a good experience.  In retrospect I probably should have just got the Chicken Fingers.  However, you live, you learn.  Basically this deal is great if you haven’t eaten all day or are a stoner.  If you fit both of those descriptions then you will view this meal like Kim Jong Il views Elvis, with endless love.  

I don’t know how to do links or embed video with tumblr, so this review is lacking the total experience, maybe upon figuring that out I will edit it.  

Thanks for this opportunity Marisa.

Friendly's

Friendly’s, a subsidiary of Friendly Ice Cream Corporation, used to blossom like apple trees across the Massachusetts landscape, the peaks of their church-like restaurants towering above every town center. Then Starbucks struck and left every building painted green and white with metallic swirly crap dangling from the ceiling. There was coffee and a stronger semblance of class, but where was the ice cream?

It was in the sad places. Much like the Outback Steakhouse nessled between Modell’s and Casual Male XL, or the Olive Garden lingering in the shadow of Home Depot, Friendly’s restaurants are now in strip malls and the outskirts of parking lots in towns that —while not unreasonably far away— nobody has heard of or been to.

So after a relaxing afternoon at the beach in Gloucester (where I only saw one pregnant teen!), we headed off to Friendly’s in Essex, MA.

The best thing about the menu at Friendly’s is that there is a picture of nearly everything on the menu. The worst thing about Friendly’s is that almost nothing looks like the picture on the menu. Friendly’s menu pictures have been airbrushed to a standard women’s magazines can only hope to attain. You order believing that the gleaming, glistening glamourshots of ice cream and onion rings will soon be yours, only to find that the onion rings you got as part of the “munchie mania” combo plate are too hot on the outside and too cold on the inside, and that there’s grease all over your plate.

That said, the food is exactly what you want after being in the sun all day. When you’re sticky and there’s sand in your crevices, you don’t care that you were promised the Zac Efron of tuna melts and got some pimply fourteen year old instead. You care that is tastes like a heavy, cheesy sandwich, and also that you save room for ice cream.

Lisa, Riva and I split the “Forbidden Chocolate” sundae (ain’t nobody gone tell me what’s forbidden!), partly because it had brownies in it and partly because of the sassy name. It would have lived up to all of it’s promised except for one thing; the ice cream was all melted! I don’t know if they put it in a fresh-out-of-the-washing-machine glass or if it was melted to begin with, but it sucked trying to get it out with those long tiny spoons they give you. Blerg. 

-Marisa Calleja

California Pizza Kitchen

At the beginning of my freshman year of college, I got an offer from a new friend, that, if I were to visit her in her hometown, we would visit her favorite mall and go to California Pizza Kitchen. Well, this friend and I don’t spend much time together anymore so I had to take it upon myself to go to MY favorite mall and eat California Pizza Kitchen by myself (and three other people).

My favorite mall is a little place called the Natick Collection: the shopping center formerly known as the Natick Mall. This is where my mom took me to buy dip-dyed tank tops for middle school dances, even though there was a perfectly good mall near our house. This place is a 12 year-old girl’s dream come true. It had the first Delia’s store in New England, Wet Seal, Claire’s, Icing by Claire’s, Weathervane and American Eagle. I’m sure I went weeks at a time without wearing anything not purchased at the Natick Mall. Years later, I read in the Boston Globe that the Natick Mall was undergoing an extensive renovation and wanted to rename itself “Natick,” to which the citizens of the town of Natick understandably protested. Now the Natick Collection has all of my tween dreams and more, with a crazy new wing that looks like Mohegan Sun commercials and has Nordstrom and Zara!

It should also be noted, that the Natick Mall of my youth excelled in non-meal foods, such as Orange Julius, TCBY and Auntie Anne’s Pretzels.

California Pizza Kitchen is tucked between Crate & Barrel and Macy’s, and also does not have orange smoothies, so I never went there. Which is a shame, because it’s awesome. A part of me knows I could just buy Trader Joe’s frozen pizzas and maybe add some extra stuff to the top to get a similar effect. Fuck that part of me; Every penny I spent at CPK was worth it.

Jamaican Jerk Pizza: great. Roasted Pepper and Goat Cheese Pizza: great. California Club Pizza: great, and also, who knew that much lettuce would taste good on pizza? Not me!

The real joy in eating here was that with every bite of salad pizza, I felt like I was sticking it to the Natick Collection for not being the Natick Mall anymore and trying to be a place where girls from Wellesley can buy LV wristlets if they feel Newbury Street is too far away. I was standing up for every girl that bought Paul Frank t-shirts there in 1999 hasn’t yet figured out how she’s going to finance all the pretty things she wants to buy in the new part of the mall, without funds and without being one of the assholes carrying a million bags out to her Audi.

So I sat in the unrenovated, dingy part of the mall (sorry, collection) and ate mid-price casual pizza, never so proud to support a chain. I liked to think that every time I put some CPK into my mouth, someone at the classy end eats an oyster or something gross at the Met Bar, not realizing that isn’t classy BECAUSE IT’S STILL A MALL.

-Marisa Calleja

Outback Steakhouse

Outback Steakhouse is one of those TV-advertised restaurants that sounds really fun in theory. I mean, it’s Australian! There are (supposedly) no rules! It’s just right! In reality, you find yourself eating undercooked beef under dim lights and surrounded by pictures of wallabies and over-tanned men with t-shirts that say “HANDSOME is an understatement.” Then, as you try to put away a “no rules burger” on top of the bloomin’ onion you already ate, you realize you haven’t felt this sad in a while. Or this nauseous.

The one we went to was in Medford, a town in which I used to work and where Emma goes to school. That said, we got so lost. Even Emma’s knowledge of every liquor store (“It’s Kappy’s”) in the area couldn’t help us. After turning around about eight times, we found the Outback in a strip mall, snuggled comfortably between Casual Male XL and Modell’s Sporting Goods.

I’m going to skip waiting for the table, having our waitress freak out because we had never been to an Outback Steakhouse before and the boomerangs decorating the walls to discuss the only part of this experience that really mattered.

The “Bloomin’ Onion.”

I’m usually pretty generous with my reviews of ridiculous foods (Crunch Wrap Supreme, anyone?), but this was straight nasty. It just tasted like hard-to-navigate onion rings for the first two pieces and then got so soggy and miserable that I just wanted someone to take it away. The dipping sauce was a complete mystery, although if I had to make a guess it was probably mayo and ketchup mixed with one or more of the million spices they like to talk about.

When it came time to order food that doesn’t bloom, all of us ordered burgers. Steak is crazy expensive and this is not the place I want to eat my $24 entrees. The waitress asked if it’s ok if they put their 17 spices on it and we were all like “SEVENTEEN spices?!?!!” and although she couldn’t name one of them, she assured us that, yes, there were in fact 17 spices under the blue cheese, mushrooms, bacon, cheddar and peppers on my burg’.   It was the kind of dish you would need to starve yourself for three days in order to eat entirely, and for a week if you wanted to enjoy it.

Outback Steakhouse exhausted me. I didn’t want to drive anywhere after, didn’t want to hear music, didn’t want to talk. It was probably the only meal I’ve ever had where all I wanted to do after was make sure I was still breathing properly.

-Marisa Calleja

Bertucci's

When I was in high school, my friends and I weren’t cool enough to do edgy things during our free time, so we went to Bertucci’s and ordered off the kids menu. Years later, I can still recite the kid’s menu (chicken with rigatoni, kid’s size pizza, spaghetti and meatballs, mac’ and cheese, ravioli) by heart as well as the way to beat the maze on the coloring place-mat they give you with your crayons and pizza dough (to make sculptures, dur). It was a magical time.

What I realized last night when I went to my tried-and-true Brookline Village Bertucci’s restaurant was that Bertucci’s is awesome when you’re a child or pretending to still be one, but less so as an adult. First off, food on the adult menu does not cost $4.99 and come with a soda. Secondly, there’s nothing to play with so you end up eating way more rolls than you had anticipated. 

Not that it’s a horrible thing. Bertucci’s rolls are probably my favorite starch-based food. They’re warm and soft and taste great with butter. However, two years ago Bertucci’s stopped giving you butter with your rolls, opting instead for a mix of olive oil, herbs and cheese. I don’t much care for it.

Here is what’s not to love:

Last night’s trip to Bertucci’s was tarnished by a lack of ambiance, which Emma blames on the economy. In the classic days of Brookline Village Bertucci’s, it was always really bumpin’, mainly because they had a bocchi court and everyone who worked there went to Brookline High. But last night was really sad. There was almost no one there and the people who were there were crazy. Take, for example, the woman behind us would freaked out because her chicken patty was “ice cold!” and would not stop touching it and making her server touch it to prove how “ice cold!” it was.

(This woman also yelled to the waiters at the end of her meal that their tip was on the table, more than once. The tip was maybe $2 in quarters on a thirty dollar meal). 

Then I got the wrong soup. Halfway through eating it, I realized that minestrone soup is hardly ever made out of cheese and sausage, and that I had probably received the cheese and sausage soup. Instead of handling this well, like eating the rest of the soup, I was an asshole and told the waitress that I was a vegetarian. I feel kind badly, but I saved $4 after she took it off the bill!

Applebee's

Even though we spent about half of our Olive Garden meal talking about how excited we are to go to the Applebee’s across the street, we ended up going to the one on Chestnut Hill Ave. This is an establishment frequented by Little League Baseball teams and Boston College summer-schoolers. Going to the more convenient Applebee’s goes along with the philosophy of the restaurant: “eating good in the neighborhood”— not, like, eating good in some parking lot in Dorchester that is also home to an Olive Garden, an Old Navy and a Home Depot. 

You know who really loved it? This girl:

Maya was really into it.

But who could blame her? It was awesome. This is a restaurant that gives you a choice between the Ultimate Trios (three different appetizers) or the Three Course Combo, which speaks for itself. I’ve never had to make so many big decisions. Buffalo wings or boneless buffalo wings? Baby back ribs or fiesta chicken? Ice cream sundae or key lime pie? 

It’s the most enjoyable sickeningly full feeling I’ve ever experienced. I started off my meal (three courses, natch) with boneless hot wings, and underestimated the importance of blue cheese dressing and ended up sweating through my shirt before I was halfway finished with them. It was a really nice juxtaposition to my main course, baby back ribs, which I ordered because I thought Applebee’s was the restaurant with the “I want my babybackbabybackbaby ribs with bah-buh-q sauce” commercials. I guess not. They were still pretty good, but at some point Ya’ara was like “ew, your fingers look like you’re wearing nail polish but you’re not.” 

Applebee’s, while awesome, gives you a really skewed sense of value and appropriate pricing. For example, Maren and Ya’ara both ordered bacon cheeseburgers. However, Maren ordered the bacon cheeseburger off the regular menu for 10.99 and Ya’ara ordered it off the three course combo menu for 11.49, meaning that she also got a choice of appetizer and dessert. Why is it that mozzarella sticks and a cup full of chocolate mousse with whipped cream is only worth an additionally 50 cents to Applebee’s? I think they’re probably pulling some sneaking business shit on us, but I’m willing to overlook it.

-Marisa Calleja

Olive Garden

You guys, we totes went to Olive Garden.

Enticed by promises of unlimited soup salad and breadsticks, the gang set off to Olive Garden in Dorchester, armed with faulty mapquest directions and a dream. That dream was to —as the commercial states— eat in a place in which we would be family. It was fun for a while and then made me nauseous. Olive Garden is the dysfunctional faux-Italian family that lives in the middle of a parking lot I never had.

When we got there, it was bumping! Like, the hottest spot in town. We couldn’t even get a table so we had to get a beeper and go kill time in Old Navy, which was apparently out of range of the beeper.

We were greeted by two waitresses-in-training whose names I forget, who asked us if we would like a sample of wine. One of the Re-Re (or is it Ri-Ri’s? Heh.) at our table thought she wouldn’t have to show an ID. Psych! What do you think this is, some sort of unlawful establishment? An Outback Steakhouse?

Then the breadsticks came. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I certainly didn’t think it would taste like a straightened-out Auntie Anne’s pretzel. It was awesome for me; I don’t think anyone else agreed. Plus we had to pay extra for dipping sauces, which was bullshit.

The next part of our meal I like to refer to as the night Maren Jensen took a bullet for me.

So the waitress comes up to me and is like “soup or salad?” and I’m like “NO,” thinking it would cost me cash money or something. And then Maren is like “no?” and I was like “no.” Then somewhere in that interaction, I realized that there is a complimentary choice of soup or salad. The salad sucked, but I’m really glad I didn’t miss out on something free.

When it came time to order entrees, Kara made a huge deal about eggplant. It was nuts and really confusing. I got tortellini with beef and mushrooms, and the beef and mushrooms were completely indistinguishable. I literally had no idea whether I was eating beef or mushrooms, even when it was in my mouth. Also, there was so much cream sauce I felt like I was drinking half and half. Somehow, I didn’t realize how ridiculous this dish was as I was eating it and ended up making myself pretttttttty sick.

So sick that I started driving the wrong way up Mass Ave. until everyone started yelling at me to go the right way. And with a gallon of cream in my belly and a song (“Every Time We Touch” by Cascada) in my heart, we made our way home.

-Marisa