There's an episode of the Simpsons in which Bart and his classmates end up stranded on a desert island.* Like their counterparts in The Lord of the Flies, the kids enjoy their freedom initially, but they soon run out of food. In hunger and despair, one of them grumbles, "I'm so hungry, I could eat at Arby's."
I've always had a soft spot for Arby's. Maybe it's because Arby's is native to the Buckeye State (the first restaurant opened in Boardman, OH, in 1961). Maybe it's because my grandfather liked Arby's, so when I was a boy, a visit from Grampa always meant I'd get a roast-beef sandwich and fries for dinner instead of Hamburger Helper or Chef Boyardee. Or maybe it's because you have to be a fan of any restaurant that makes horseradish sauce available to its customers via a spigot. Homer Simpson would love it. Mmm...Horsey Sauce.
So while I love the Simpsons as much as the next guy, I never understood its screenwriters' disdain for one of my favorite fast-food restaurants. Until recently, that is, when I visited the Arby's on Hilliard-Cemetery Road. The first thing I noticed upon walking in was the pungent stench of a clogged grease trap. Something's burnin'...something's burnin'... Quite an appetite killer.
The second thing I noticed was that the cashier was a dead ringer for Cletus, the Slack-Jawed Yokel, the Simpsons' stereotypical hillbilly, but without Cletus' shine-swilling charm. Despite his flat-eyed stare, the cashier did take my order correctly and make the proper change, so perhaps I'm being too hard on him.
The third thing I noticed was the decor. Many Arby's locations have been renovated with tasteful carpet, rich-looking dark brown artificial-leather booths, green plants, and skylights. This location apparently didn't get the memo. Most of the walls and carpeting were Modern Office Cubicle Gray. Gee, nothing like escaping the cold, gray office to have lunch in a cold, gray restaurant.
Of course, none of this matters much if the food is tasty...which, unfortunately, it wasn't. I ordered a Beef and Cheddar sandwich, whose bun was stale enough to fail the Flick Test. (Next time you order a fast-food sandwich, gently flick the bun. If it sounds like you're flicking a kitchen countertop, you've been cheated. D'oh!) The roast beef was warm and fully cooked, but the cheddar sauce was concentrated in one drippity dollop at the edge of the sandwich. Good thing I had plenty of Horsey Sauce on hand to balance things out. The curly fries were lukewarm, a fast-food sin for which there is no good excuse. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the Cemetery Road store has the highest menu prices I've seen at any greater Columbus Arby's.
On the plus side, the restaurant wasn't overly crowded, even at the height of the lunch rush. I can't imagine why.
Next time you get a hankering for slow-roasted, freshly sliced roast beef on a bun, skip the Cemetery Road location. If you're going to pay premium fast-food prices, you have a right to expect premium fast-food quality.
*Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I can tell you the episode in question is #5F11, titled "Das Bus," which originally aired on Fox on Feb. 15, 1998.
I've always had a soft spot for Arby's. Maybe it's because Arby's is native to the Buckeye State (the first restaurant opened in Boardman, OH, in 1961). Maybe it's because my grandfather liked Arby's, so when I was a boy, a visit from Grampa always meant I'd get a roast-beef sandwich and fries for dinner instead of Hamburger Helper or Chef Boyardee. Or maybe it's because you have to be a fan of any restaurant that makes horseradish sauce available to its customers via a spigot. Homer Simpson would love it. Mmm...Horsey Sauce.
So while I love the Simpsons as much as the next guy, I never understood its screenwriters' disdain for one of my favorite fast-food restaurants. Until recently, that is, when I visited the Arby's on Hilliard-Cemetery Road. The first thing I noticed upon walking in was the pungent stench of a clogged grease trap. Something's burnin'...something's burnin'... Quite an appetite killer.
The second thing I noticed was that the cashier was a dead ringer for Cletus, the Slack-Jawed Yokel, the Simpsons' stereotypical hillbilly, but without Cletus' shine-swilling charm. Despite his flat-eyed stare, the cashier did take my order correctly and make the proper change, so perhaps I'm being too hard on him.
The third thing I noticed was the decor. Many Arby's locations have been renovated with tasteful carpet, rich-looking dark brown artificial-leather booths, green plants, and skylights. This location apparently didn't get the memo. Most of the walls and carpeting were Modern Office Cubicle Gray. Gee, nothing like escaping the cold, gray office to have lunch in a cold, gray restaurant.
Of course, none of this matters much if the food is tasty...which, unfortunately, it wasn't. I ordered a Beef and Cheddar sandwich, whose bun was stale enough to fail the Flick Test. (Next time you order a fast-food sandwich, gently flick the bun. If it sounds like you're flicking a kitchen countertop, you've been cheated. D'oh!) The roast beef was warm and fully cooked, but the cheddar sauce was concentrated in one drippity dollop at the edge of the sandwich. Good thing I had plenty of Horsey Sauce on hand to balance things out. The curly fries were lukewarm, a fast-food sin for which there is no good excuse. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the Cemetery Road store has the highest menu prices I've seen at any greater Columbus Arby's.
On the plus side, the restaurant wasn't overly crowded, even at the height of the lunch rush. I can't imagine why.
Next time you get a hankering for slow-roasted, freshly sliced roast beef on a bun, skip the Cemetery Road location. If you're going to pay premium fast-food prices, you have a right to expect premium fast-food quality.
*Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I can tell you the episode in question is #5F11, titled "Das Bus," which originally aired on Fox on Feb. 15, 1998.
No comments:
Post a Comment