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A white man's review of Denny's.
To watch a typical television cooking show can fill an individual
with illusions of grandeur. While making fantastic meals may
seem as easy as following written instructions and precise
measurements, these masters have broken each food item down
into an infinitely malleable brushstroke by immersing their
soul into the craft. An average person could make English
saffron bread using their bread maker and machine; yet to
know the history of bread and to have worked with dozens of
varieties in hundreds of interchangeable contexts is wisdom
that transfers into taste. Cuisine that has been prepared
by these master-hands converts into an ocean of knowledge
if the recipient is aware.
I'm white and I love Denny's.
My visit to Denny's this last Thursday reminded me of my
favorite High School Teacher. Mr. Anderson was a brilliant
man, one would think too smart to be working at the high school
level. His teaching technique was very thorough - he spoke
clearly, concisely and if the subject was confusing he used
appropriate analogies that made even the dimmest of students
understand. Anything he wrote on the chalkboard could and
would be on the test. That was the rule and it was effective.
The Grand Slam Breakfast I was served wholly represented this
theory. Complexity simplified into a marvelously digestible
end result.
After a brief moment I realized that this brand new Denny's
I was to review didn't offer valet parking, I pulled my car
away from the curb and parked. From the well kept parking
lot I entered the palatial structure. I was promptly greeted
by the Maitre d' who had a remarkably historic haircut. I've
read that a mullet is actually a compound word combining the
words "mull" to ponder, and "et" a Polish suffix meaning eternally.
Thus the Mullet gets its name from those who were forever
engaged in intellectual processes. This gentleman's mullet
accentuated his thoughtful brow and embodied the pursuit of
excellence at Denny's.
The Maitre d' then asked if I wanted smoking or not - but
did so in a curious manner. He simply tilted his head inquisitively
and put two fingers to his lips. Minimalists in the context
of the bible believe the writings are a record of what later
generations mythologized about their history. Maximalists
argue that the bible is an accurate account to be taken literally.
This inquisitive motion framed against a blank white wall
in the background transcended labeling and embraced humanity
on an equal existential/spiritual plane. I sheepishly requested
nonsmoking.
Upon seating at the spacious table I was visited by an attentive
and informed waitron. He went over the specials, recommended
the Ultimate Omelet, an item of pride for the chef that day.
I thankfully declined and ordered the Original Grand Slam
Breakfast. He asked me how I wanted my eggs by listing some
of the usuals available at Denny's: poached, hard boiled,
soft-boiled, scrambled soft, scrambled hard, over easy, sunny-side-up
and matza brei - matzah crumbled and soaked in beaten eggs
for at least an hour, then fried and served with jam or sugar.
The latter the waiter encouraged claiming it was well worth
the wait as it was a "feast for the pallet." I declined sticking
to my scrambled standard.
Denny's award
winning coffee beans.
I also placed my order for a cup of fresh Denny's coffee
and received it very quickly there afterwards. The body of
the Java was heavy and resonant with a balanced flavor. The
acidity of it was low-toned and vibrant with the aftertaste
incorporating many positive nuances. My waitron told me only
the finest Sumatran beans were used at Denny's.
My plate arrived in an appropriate timeframe, enough for
me to absorb the atmosphere and decor of the restaurant interior.
My waiter, tailed by the syrup steward, served my Grand Slam
Breakfast - unveiling it as if it were Christo's wrapped Reichstag
as displayed before a fumble-fingered oaf. He then passed
me off to the syrup steward who suggested some Shagbark
Hickroy syrup for my pancakes. I agreed.
My talented waiter.
The Grand Slam Breakfast was laid out on the plate in an
artistic fashion that was both familiar and avant-garde but
then slapped you in the face with its savory aroma
and made you feel ashamed to have even thought of it as art
and not food. The syrup was perfect. A perfect match for the
pancakes. It also worked conjointly with bringing out the
spice in the sausage patties into a precise sharp flavor.
The eggs were fluffed to a degree of perfection. The smoked
bacon was crisped so evenly I actually spent a couple minutes
trying to find a flaw. I couldn't.
I left Denny's with a feeling of deep satisfaction. I fully
recommend this experience to anyone across this nation for
I feel that if I can get this attention to detail at my local
Denny's there must be a corporate policy of excellence that
other restaurants can only strive to attain.
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