Franchised Nostalgia, with a Side of Bacon
Suburban chain restaurants are invading Manhattan, bringing a guilty pleasure home to the city
On a recent snowy weekday on Carmine Street, tourists and locals alike gathered at clean, florescent-lit, flavored-syrup laden tables for lunch at IHOP. A server and a hostess both estimate the traffic at 50/50, tourists to locals. It hardly matters which is which - once you're inside, you could be anywhere in the world. IHOPs are all the same, and so are the pancakes: heavy, steamy, delicious, plate-sized, soaking up whipped butter and Old-Fashioned Original syrup (not true maple, but the maple-flavored corn syrup that just tastes right).
New Yorkers From Elsewhere don't go to places like IHOP or Denny's for the food, really, or even for the all-hours-of-the-day-and-night convenience. We're not tourists; we know that you can get dense, authentic Ukrainian pierogi at at 4 a.m. from Veselka on Second and 9th, or pancakes from any corner diner on 10th Avenue. We go to IHOP or Denny's or Applebee's because when you walk into a place like that, a place that speaks of other-state suburbia with every wheeze of the vinyl padded booths, every crack of the egg-yolk spattered menus, it reminds you that you are from Somewhere Else, and for a half hour you can settle back into your accent and some mediocre but utterly familiar food. It doesn't matter how upscale, how Manhattanized, the classy touches make any particular franchise - you're still eatin' good in the neighborhood, and that means the same thing everywhere in the country. It's fine casual dining - the most glorious of American oxymorons.
Sure, there are arguments against these places. They attract rowdy youths all night long - so different from any other place in Manhattan! They can be noisy and make a whole block smell like maple syrup and bacon! To the former, see above. To the latter, why is this a problem? They're serving up calorie bombs that will turn us all into obese Midwesterners! Maybe don't go there everyday! Or order yours with egg whites, hold the butter. It's Denny's, not the Soup Nazi.
In reality, no one is shoving popular-movie-themed short stacks down your throat. There will always be a disgustingly wide array of culinary options in NYC, and the people filling those booths at the Olive Garden are just as likely to be making reservations at Babbo for the upcoming weekend. They just can also appreciate a place where you go not to be seen, or to be cool, or even to be ironic - there's no irony in a vanilla cookie dough Blizzard, only heaven - but to eat from a menu that offers free refills and a taste, however rubbery, of home.