To Be or Not to Applebee

On our great culinary adventures, Jayne and I always look for only the finest, purest, most extraordinary ingredients and recipes. No expense shall be spared and no stone unturned in search of culinary perfection.

This, inevitably, has led us to Applebee’s.

Great sages once spoke of a dessert so rich in chocolate and sprinkled with cinammon and sugar, that the people prayed to their God so that he may deliver upon them to this miracle.

And, ye so it was that He bestowed upon them… the Churro S’more.


Jayne and I risked much–muggers, parking money, our dignity–to venture forth to that heinous land they call Fisherman’s Wharf so that we, too, might have a taste of that godly dessert.

And, oh, we were not disappointed.

Aside from the uncomfortable amount of tourists and shadiness that Fisherman’s Wharf inevitably attracts, we quite enjoyed our trip to taste one of the Seven Wonders of Diabetes.


Besides those dazzling parking lot sunset views, the thing that really got our misanthropic hearts to skip a beat was this little machine at the end of the table that lets you place orders, summon the peasant–er…server, and pay for your bill. Ah, the joy we had in interacting with a quiet, brainless machine that would in no way attempt small talk. Of course, we still had to tip, which was kind of absurd–but hey! that little machine earned it!

So, I’ve decided to make a little pro/con list for those thinking about trying this adventure at home.


  • Churro S’more- OBVIOUSLY. So good, we contemplated dipping chicken tenders/our fingers into the chocolate/marshmallow mix after we ran out of churros. Settled on stealthily dipping fries instead.
  • Pretty darn good burger (and we’d know a little something about that, given our quest to find the perfect burger {it eludes us}).
  • Almost not having to interact with fellow man in order to get our food.


  • Poor fucking grammar. Hire some editors, you cheapskates! (Incidentally, I know a few). “What’s seared in” is not the same as “What it’s seared in,” DAMMIT!
  • Having to brave Fisherman’s Wharf, and thus having every idiot ask, “So, where you guys from?”
  • Still somewhat having to interact with our fellow man to get our napkins and our booze.
Pictured: a crime against grammar.

All in all, the verdict is this: Only the brave should venture forth to seek this Eden, but there they shall be greatly rewarded. Hark!


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