There
are certain things that everyone uses out of convenience but they might grumble
a little bit about it. For me that’s chain restaurants. Sometimes I grumble
about them not being healthy enough. But, of course, that’s not always true
because there are plenty of choices. In reality, the consistency of American
chain restaurants is great comfort. I love the fact that I can pick up a sub
sandwich with some chips and an icy cold drink and picnic it on the spur of the
moment. I don’t have to go into a chain restaurant and pore over a menu asking
questions of the waiter because I already know what to order before I even open
the door. Of course that’s not always what I want, but when I want easy comfort
an American chain restaurant is there to fill that role.
There’s
no doubt that it’s a little disconcerting to drive the streets of a European
city to find a KFC crammed into an old Tudor building, but after a few days of
mushy peas, dried out roast dinners and cold “jacket potatoes” (we Yanks call
them baked) or soggy schnitzel, a nice crispy chicken leg with a biscuit and
honey and a coke with ice is a real treat. It just seems wrong that when you
order a coke and specify that you would like ice, the waiter returns with a
warm coke and a single, rapidly melting ice cube. So, yes, I think a KFC in
Zurich seems wrong but I’m not going to complain about that coke at TGI Friday’s
in Bristol when they set a proper icy coke in front of me with a slice of
lemon. And, yes, of course, I appreciate the quaint pubs and the restaurants of
Europe, but sometimes it’s just nice to have a moment on the Grand Canal to collect
yourself and get over the fact that you would have saved five bucks at the
pizza place had you ordered a bottle of wine instead of said coke that was warm
without ice. No, I wouldn’t go to Pizza Hut in Rome and I really don’t think
they should have them there, but it must not just be Americans looking that
comfort in knowing what’s at an American chain restaurant. And I confess to
having stopped by a Burger King in Oxford after maneuvering my way around a
zillion international touring teenagers to get a nice icy coke that had no guarantee
of a free refill, always bemoaning the fact that they didn’t offer root beer.
I
realize that American food is too packaged, too everywhere sometimes, but I
also realize that there is great comfort in a nice biscuit with sausage gravy
that you can’t really seem to find anywhere outside of North America, because
who would eat gravy on their Oreos? (Biscuit in British English is that American
hard dry cookie sort of thing.) And the comfort of knowing exactly what you are
getting is what the American chain restaurant offers. I may be the first to
grumble about the McDonald’s in Exeter’s city centre being a crowded mess, but
I might also wait twenty minutes at lunch time to order my kids a Quarter Pounder
with fries at that same crowded McDonald’s while wondering how such a place
could ever be considered fast food.
It’s
no different here at home. When I don’t know what they serve at Mabel’s diner
in Detroit and my other option is Burger King when I’ve been craving a grilled
burger, the choice is obvious. I’ll try Mabel’s when I’m not tired, when I’m
ready to experiment, when Burger King sounds too ordinary. But I’m so thankful
for the American chain restaurant for its comfort and knowing what I will get.
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