I’m a Long-Time Food Writer, but I’ve Never Been to the Cheesecake Factory—Here’s What I Thought

Wait, did I just change my tune on chain restaurants?!

As a child of the Midwest suburbs, I was raised on a steady diet of Mom’s chicken dinners and Dad’s grilled fare. Once a week or so, it would be a treat to dine at Panera, Applebee’s, or TGI Friday’s. And if it was a really special occasion, like a birthday, we’d head to Olive Garden—where you better arrive by 5 p.m., or you’d risk an hour-plus-long line.

We had a handful of locally-owned restaurants in our community, but in the 1990s and early 2000s, chain restaurants were the epitome of cool. My first paying job was as a sandwich artist at Subway, in fact, and I’ll be forever thankful for the lessons I learned while baking, slicing, and constructing there.

All this is to say, chain restaurants were a mainstay and a core memory of my childhood. 

Breaking Up With Chains 

Sometime during my college years, then even more once I moved to New York City to start my magazine career, I started to break links in my connection to chains and felt more drawn to locally-owned restaurants. I craved the variety; the potential for education; the possibility of surprise. Once I moved to Des Moines, Iowa, the place I now call home, I forged some of my strongest friendships at local restaurants. I really found my second family among the “regulars” at a few of my go-to spots, and the staff members there taught me to love food more than I ever had before.

Eventually, I became the person who sets her alarm so she doesn’t forget to book a seat at a farm-to-table dinner or to make a reservation at a James Beard Award-winning restaurant.

About 10 years ago, I all but swore off chain restaurants, thinking that my time and money would be better spent supporting my local spots. I’d make exceptions for my frequent trips through airports (I also write about travel and wellness), but beyond that, I really steered clear of those chains I was so smitten with when I was a kid.

As I enter the second half of my 30s, I’ve been examining this mindset; trying to probe deeper into the root cause of this shift. Somewhere along the way, I guess that I began to believe that chains lacked editing. If you were trying to be something for everyone, you can’t really be for anyone, I believed. A supersized chain menu that’s overflowing with options feels overwhelming and lacking perspective. 

When I gather with friends, the topic of conversation often stirs back to food: what we’ve been cooking, cookbooks or chefs that are inspiring us, the latest TikTok food trends, the new local hotspots, and sometimes, the newest chain restaurant menu items that are making headlines. It wouldn’t be often, but every time the topic of The Cheesecake Factory arose, I’d have to sheepishly admit that I had never visited to witness the encyclopedia of a menu in real life. We didn’t grow up with one in our town, and I had broken up with chains as a category by the time I planted roots in a metro area that had a location.

My pals seemed to fall into one of two camps: what are you waiting for?! or don’t bother. A year or so went by, and I’d occasionally drive by The Cheesecake Factory entrance since it was located at the mall. Every time, it seemed full, and every time, I’d see families walking out with those branded bags (toting leftovers) and wearing big smiles.

At dinner club, I mentioned my growing curiosity to some of my most devoted food-loving friends. Without hesitation, three of them excitedly volunteered to take me on my maiden voyage.

Related: Delicious Copycat Recipes That Are Even Better Than the Originals

My First Trip to The Cheesecake Factory

We arrived around 7:15 p.m. on a Monday evening. Most places in town would either be quiet or closed on a Monday, but The Cheesecake Factory was buzzing. We put our names in and had about a 10-minute wait, which was just enough time to take in the opulent decor. If you know you know: Gold plaster walls, dark woods, massive pillars, and an aesthetic that somehow feels Vegas and Victorian and Egyptian all at once.

The length and diversity of the menu blew me away too. It had so many pages, there was even room for a couple soda ads! To those who dine there, these sections will sound familiar: 

• Small Plates and Snacks
• Appetizers
• Flatbread Pizzas
• “Glamburgers” (which I learned were the brand’s signature burgers made with certified Angus beef)
• Sandwiches
• Salads
• Specialties
• Pastas
• Fish and Seafood
• Factory Combinations (two proteins with mashed potatoes)
• Steaks
• Side Dishes
• “Skinnylicious” (590 calories or less)
• Kids’ Menu
• All-Day Breakfast
• Cheesecakes and Desserts

After taking a good 15 minutes to explore all of our options, we decided to split the Sweet Corn Tamale Cakes and the Thai Lettuce Wraps with Chicken and Avocado. (The description of the latter reminded me a bit of the Paleo Chicken and Avocado Lettuce Wraps our Test Kitchen created and I love to DIY!) For a main dish, I opted for the Grilled Steak Medallions, which came with sauteed asparagus, tomatoes, and mushrooms, all showered in a savory Madeira sauce. My tablemates asked for the Fried Chicken Club Salad, the Famous Factory Meatloaf, and the Lemon-Garlic Shrimp pasta. And since no visit would be complete without a slice, we would end things on a sweet note by sharing a slice of Mango Key Lime Cheesecake.

Our server was clearly well-trained. He arrived early with my steak knife, was sure to ask if the salad dressing suggested was okay, and confirmed that I was certain I knew what I was asking for when I said, “medium-rare, please.” As for the food, The Factory’s reputation for overdelivering on portion size was no joke. Servings were ample, and while none of us were challenged or blown away by our dishes, we had zero complaints—and had plenty of time around the table to share stories and laughs as we ate until we were satisfied. Then ate a few bites more.

The 1 Unexpected Thing I Love About The Cheesecake Factory

These days, it seems like everyone has a “tribe.” You either love Taylor Swift and follow every stop on her Eras tour, or think that she’s the worst thing to happen to the NFL since its founding. You’re politically on one far end of the spectrum or the other. You’re Team Bravo, or think it’s a total waste of time. 

At a place like The Cheesecake Factory, there’s a little something for everyone. Meatloaf. Lettuce wraps. Fish and chips. Flapjacks. 

In 2024, nearly everyone has a hot take, and a growing number of us have a tough time holding space (and holding our tongues) to hear other perspectives. What better place to hold space for a conversation, or even just quiet time together sharing a meal, than around the table? 

Mid-way through my steak medallions, I took a moment to soak up the scene. A modern-day bop by punk-pop songwriter Benson Boone piped over the speaker system, which was followed up by a folksy old school Bob Dylan song. A family of four next to us quietly clapped as one member received his complimentary slice of birthday cheesecake topped with a candle. A couple savored a date night, which was only interrupted a few times by their toddler who wanted to “share” a fry…or a few. A group of four teenagers from a local high school giggled as they took selfies and stole bites off each other’s plates.

At that moment, it struck me. Yes, I will always adore supporting my local restaurants. But there’s something really lovely about the familiar. About the common denominator. About the common ground. No matter who you vote for, what news station you’re loyal to, or what diet you follow, you can meet in the middle—at the same table, in fact—at a chain restaurant like The Cheesecake Factory.

It turns out, if you are trying to be something for everyone, then you are for everyone. And there’s something really beautiful about that.

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