IHOPe I can eat the whole thing
Written: May 19 '00 (Updated Jun 03 '00)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Great food, excellent service, good value
Cons: Often busy, especially on weekends, makes long wait
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| Kessec's Full Review: IHOP |
Let me preface this article with a caution concerning chain restaurants. Because each franchise is not run by the same individual(s), quality and service may differ wildly from place to place. Your mileage, therefore, is bound to vary. For that reason, a negative review of one such locality does not necessarily mean shoddiness across the entire company's outlets, although should you after reading a negative review about a place, choose to sample your local version of that chain you ought not be surprised to find the review representative of your experience. However, a positive review probably means that the restaurant in your back yard is worth trying, there to determine for yourself whether that franchise lives up to the company's standards.
International House of Pancakes has been around approximately since Hannibal piloted his elephants into Rome, and for all that time has served those delicious pancakes for which they are famous. Last time I ate at the one on Route 9 in Shrewsbury, MA, must have been 20 years ago, a breakfast that I still remember fondly as one of the tastiest ones I have ever eaten outside of the home-cooked sort. We have tried to eat there several times in the meanwhile years, but IHOP is packed to the rafters with customers, all the day and half the night, so much that patronizing it becomes prohibitive.
Being determined people, we showed up every so often at the IHOP entrance, hoping to catch it on a day when the wait was unusually reasonable -- less than ten minutes, in our opinion -- a figure arrived at by the arbitrary method of listening to our stomachs. Today, this very morning, we ventured into IHOP with the usual pessimistic yet hopeful outlook -- and, behold! no waiting at all. We were seated promptly, in the smoking section (my wife and I both smoke), and received immediate attention in the form of menus and inquires regarding choice of beverage.
I drink tea, which arrived in record time: one tall ceramic cup, two tea bags wrapped in paper, and one small pitcher of steaming water, with assurances from the waitress that more tea bags were available should I want them. We embarked upon the menus, while I fixed my tea. You might suppose that the waitress should have done this task for me, but I observe to you that steeping is a personal matter that is not to be trifled; do it yourself or put up with tea that is never to your liking.
The menus offered a wide assortment of choices, from the plain old pancake stack with whipped butter, to some highly imaginative omelettes whose very descriptions made our mouths water. There also could be had London Broil with Eggs, T-Bone Steak & Eggs, French Toast, Crepes, Pigs in Blanket, and other varieties of breakfast. I hovered indecisively between the super delux, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me "Colorado Omelette", and something called the "Breakfast Sampler." My wife wanted the omelette, so I chose the Sampler. This particular franchise offers Fish & Chips on Fridays, but much as we adore it, we did not feel like eating fish at 9:30 in the morning.
We smoked a while, fully expecting our food to be over ten minutes distant. After all, we had only just ordered, and even greasy spoons take that long to deliver the worst imaginable food. I am a heavy smoker of the long type of cigarette known as "100's", which means one cancer stick lasts for me less than eight minutes. As if by magic, our food appeared before I had finished my smoke, which astonished me. I crushed the thing out and beheld my breakfast.
One ellipsoid ceramic plate, about half again as large as plates typically found in restaurants, verged on overflowing with food: two eggs over easy, two link sausages cooked just right, three strips of Canadian Bacon cooked to crisping but not charred, three slabs (roughly the size of a dollar bill) of ham, and an Appalachian range of hash browns (of the dainty, shredded variety that I prefer). Off to the side, another smaller plate supporting two buttermilk pancakes with a dollup of whipped butter on top. My mouth watered as I took in this sight, and my hollow stomach urged me to begin shoveling the stuff.
The eggs were cooked precisely as ordered -- 'over easy'. I am always amazed how often short order cooks cannot deliver this simple task. They produce yolks either still viable or parched to crumbling, neither of which I find edible. The whites are often runny, such that one wonders whether the grill was turned on at all, or crisped and pitted such that one suspects the cook slept through the process. But these yolks were of the perfect consistency that marks a griddle staffed by experts, these whites were tender and not greasy and cooked through.
The sausages were neither rubbery nor charred into porcine bullets. The ham was not the smoked or honey variety that I prefer, but it was delicious just the same. The bacon was crispy without resembling granite-like peanut brittle, nor was it limp and soaked with grease; it was just right. The potato hash browns exhibited crisped outsides, while the insides were not sogged or greased up as many such side dishes are wont to be. The pancakes were scrumptious -- wholly unsurprising, as this is IHOP, after all, and pancakes are their speciality -- with mouth-watering buttermilk, whipped butter, and marvelous maple syrup. They were neither lumpy nor over cooked, nor were they afflicted with the "stale soda" disease common to many other places that do not specialize in pancakes but serve them anyway. These were worthy of high praise. My fork scarcely knew which treat to skewer next, as it wavered over each of these delights.
My wife's omelette, the "Colorado", was a monstrous affair that filled the ellipsoid plate such that her hash browns arrived on ceramic of their very own. This omelette sported every conceivable ingredient: sliced bacon, diced ham, cut sausage, chopped onions, diced red and green peppers, grated cheddar cheese atop and throughout, while all of this bound up in "only" three eggs. I think she felt full the moment her eyes took it all in, but she bravely endeavored to eat every bite. She could hardly do otherwise, as its fine flavor and aroma provided ample encouragement.
The omelette was $6.59, while the Sampler was $6.39, and together with the tea and a tall glass of milk that was so cold I could not reason how it remained in liquid state brought the damage for the entire meal up to $16.03 (inc. tax). I considered this bordering on steep for breakfast, but this criticism vanished when I factored the amount of food our dollars had purchased. We could not possibly eat it all. Some 45 minutes later, we conceded defeat, admitted we should have to leave some of these delightful morsels uneaten, and decided that we had gotten our money's worth, at the very least. A glutton who frequents the "all you can eat" buffets, hoping to indulge them into bankruptcy, might find himself challenged mightily by IHOP's ordinary meals.
The service was perhaps even better than the food. Perhaps I am grown accustomed to service of the amateurish sort, but these waitresses were a study in perpetual motion. They bustled about, checking up their tables constantly, but without managing intrusiveness. Be forewarned: set down an empty plate or glass in this restaurant, and it is scooped up and carted off before the table even knows you placed it. I stuck my fork into pancakes that were not there, as I had already emptied the plate and the waitress absconded with it from under my very nose without my noticing. That sort of subtle service takes real talent.
If you have an IHOP within 50 miles of your home, and you have not eaten of it lately, what in the world are you waiting for? Certainly, it is stuffed to bursting on weekends, but suppose you take a day off from work some day soon. You have earned it, haven't you? If you have not, then assume your spouse has, and spring for the treat.
One final note: far as I know, IHOP has always offered multiple flavors of syrup. Here was Blueberry, Strawberry, Butternut Pecan, and the obligatory Maple. These sat upon the table each in their own small pitchers, which were full to the top despite heavy traffic. Although your local franchise may differ, this one used pitchers whose spout was of the no-drip sort. This feature only works when used properly, as I discovered when I picked the pitcher up by wrapping my hand round the whole body of it, only to find that its front refused to relinquish my fingers. I do not enjoy grabbing inanimate objects that grab me back. Here is the trick -- tip the pitcher forward, squeeze the trigger-like spout release and pour syrup to your tastes, then let go the trigger before returning the pitched to its upright position. Nary a drip, that way.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
Kessec
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Member: Michael McNamara
Location: Central Massachusetts
Reviews written: 70
Trusted by: 31 members
About Me:
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