The Cheeseake Factory
11647 San Vicente Blvd., Brentwood, CA, USA

It's very odd … a place that in the Chicago area would rank as nothing more than a stomping ground for old ladies, in tony Brentwood becomes strangely trendy. But that's LA for ya, and that's The Cheesecake Factory. I suppose any restaurant with vaguely attractive waitresses who wear black passes in LA for trendy or hip … or perhaps this is a true dive and I just don't get out that much.

Either way, "The Factory" (as no one I know actually calls it) serves a very wide variety of clientele, from underage jailbait to senior citizen jailbait. Yet despite all the skinny people, The Factory is the kind of place where you mostly gorge yourself beyond your capacity to store food … and that's before dessert, when you somehow must find more room for the extravagant selection of cheesecakes.

I do recall the place with vague fondness, or perhaps fond vagueness, as it's been nearly a year since I've eaten there (my elder aunt takes me there to meet her older lady friends, who stare at me with odd smiles and say uncomfortable things like, "You're a handsome one, did anyone ever tell you that?"), but I don't recall ever actively wanting to eat here. For some reason my Work Friend had a yen to go, so I figured why not? I lives on the edge.

We arrived just before the evening crush, which can cause unpleasant waits of up to five minutes, and were seated at a table-booth. The menu is not very vegetarian friendly, with tons of chicken dishes that I now avoid despite craving them like a modern-day Taft following a juice fast. I just remind myself that in order to control the chickens, they hack off their legs and beaks so they can't run around or do any damage. I read that years ago in a novel about Napoleon's chef, and I figure it must be true, otherwise why would they write about it?

So I ordered the Portabella Omelette but substituted the vile Communist portabella mushrooms with plain old regular American democracy mushrooms. Work Friend ordered a big chopped salad which she liked but couldn't finish (when I offered to take it home as leftovers the waitress, who'd previously been eyeing me like a hungry she-lion, looked at me like I was a moron space alien or something … needless to say when I thought about it, I decided not to take Work Friend's leftovers; that is kind of disgusting).

My omelette was outstanding: "An Herb Omelette Filled with Fontina Cheese and Topped with Sautéed Asparagus, Portabella Mushroom, Artichoke, and Tomato" according to the menu. A bit heavy on the cheese perhaps, but a wonderful blend of flavors and very filling. The asparagus really made the omelette, and even better, made my come smell like asparagus.

I don't remember what Work Friend drank, but I tried without success to get a Barq's root beer (waitress said the fountain wasn't working) so instead took a huge gallon glass of Sprite.

The service was OK – seemed like forced cheeriness to me – and the atmosphere was a little irritating, as it kept getting louder and louder, and our conversation about how we're not achieving our full potential as humans kept getting drowned out by people making deals for millions of dollars, or so it seemed. Tell those potential-reaching bastards to shut the hell up and fail already!

Neither of us could have possibly eaten a piece of cheesecake, although Work Friend bought one to take home. Dinner for me cost about $15 including tip, which was fine. Honestly, I can't complain about The Cheesecake Factory, but I find it to be generally loud, boring, and with too-massive portions to really enjoy the food. It's like TGI Friday's, but without the stupid party motif.

Review by Crimedog, September 1999