I hate everything about IHOP. The International House of Pancakes? What’s international about it? Certainly not some crappy batter fried in a skillet. They do offer French style crepes; Jennifer has had them a few times. They sort of look like the crepes I’ve had in France, but I suspect that they are shipped to the individual restaurants precooked and merely heated before they are served. They are served slathered with a weird, gelatinous, orange-flavored spread. It resembles petroleum jelly. Gag a maggot.
According to IHOP’s website, there are 1200 IHOPs throughout the U.S. and Canada. If they are trying to sell Canada as International, I am not buying.
I hate the suburban locations and the constantly full parking lot. I hate the strange table/booths that obviously provide flexibility for seating different size parties but make me uncomfortable because someone, not in your party, is always sitting too close. I hate the terrible, terrible, terrible coffee. I hate the waiting area with its row of booths facing one another. Never is there enough room and people inevitably pour into the little foyer. I hate that, while I’m waiting for a table on weekend mornings, someone will inevitably walk into the packed waiting area, ask how long the wait is, and appear shocked at the answer given by the pitiful host or hostess who is making $3.50 and hour. Didn’t they see the parking lot? Didn’t the packed waiting area give them a clue? People, if you haven’t been on a weekend, IHOP is not the choice for a quick meal. If you want fast, go to McDonald’s or Sonic.
For all these reasons, I hate IHOP. But the foremost reason I hate IHOP is the bad food. Yes, the pancakes are eatable. Who can’t make pancakes? Fried bread is good, no matter what form it takes. Besides, slather just about anything with butter and syrup and people will eat it. What else do they offer? NOTHING.
Jennifer and I went yesterday. Sometimes I’m just not in the mood for fried food so I thought I would try the fresh fruit and yogurt platter with a side of oatmeal. The yogurt came with a strawberry flavored, jelly-like substance mixed in it. I thought, “Why does everything have to be sweetened with a sticky substance at this place?” The oatmeal was pasty. I tried adding some milk but it was beyond help. The fresh fruit was the worst part. It wasn’t fresh. I’m not even certain it was fruit.
I’m not going back, at least not for a long time.