The Cheesecake Factory's famed brown bread was dropped off, and I wanted to ask them for a loaf so I could throw avocado on it the next morning (because I'm still basic). I wanted to eat it for dessert after this meal. I wanted to steal the recipe, buy a breadmaker, and then eat this every day.
It was monumentally delicious, and was soft in a way that makes it seem fresh even if it was made in a Bread Factory. That's why my girlfriend took two out of the three slices in the basket, not that I was counting. When I pointed this out to her, she gave one of the slices back to me. Too late. Damage done.
Score one for Cheesecake Factory! It felt like a sign of good things to come, and I was psyched to eat more.
Our friendly waiter was back quickly to take our order, and before he could recommend any appetizers, I asked for the fried mac & cheese balls, having seen photos of them on Instagram previously. They looked fantastic.
Then I ate them. They tasted fine. But the taste wasn't the problem.
"I don't know how you eat more than 2.5 bites of this," I said. "It's so rich." My dining partner agreed.
I love cheese -- hell, I write about it -- but to eat all this and then eat a Parmesan herb-crusted chicken and then eat a slice of cheesecake? Even a French cheesemonger would say, "Eh, maybe it's a little much" and then blow cigarette smoke in your face. But if you're a 13-year-old who survives on Hot Cheetos, Mountain Dew, and mac & cheese? This dish is perfection, and you can probably finish it by yourself.
We left 95% of it untouched on the table, and watched as the cheese congealed.
The waiter dropped off a mojito. "It tastes like the best mojito you've ever had at the airport," I said after taking a sip. By the third sip, it was almost unbearable in its sweetness.
There just isn't a damn thing subtle about this place, is there?