For the purpose of comparison, I ordered the original, topped with strawberries, very similar to the way it’s served at Junior’s, the Brooklyn institution that we all know has the best cheesecake in all of New York. In a restaurant known for big portions, the slice was noticeably smaller than I expected, and at $7.95, not any cheaper than a beefy slice of Junior’s original. (In fact, it’s the exact same price.)
Topped with fresh whipped cream, this silky cheesecake was certainly light, like sticking your spoon into a blob of cheesecake-flavored yogurt -- the type that healthy-ish people in California probably love to eat after going to the gym (the same type of people who think In-N-Out is better than Shake Shack, but we can save that for another time). The light Factory cheesecake, which certainly didn't offer as much satisfaction as the more substantial yet still delightfully airy Junior's variety, comes on a cardboard-thin graham cracker crust, which was not at all crunchy or crumbly like a homemade cookie crust. That’s another major difference from the style at Junior’s, which uniquely features a thin layer of sponge cake on the bottom instead, giving legitimacy to the name "cake" being used to describe this dessert. Without that cake crust, you might as well call it a Wedge of Sweetened Cream Cheese. That said, I slowly ate the entire slice.