Chain restaurants are really a double edged sword. If they’re good, you know that you’ll get it consistently good no matter where you go. But if they’re bad, then well, there’s no saving that relationship.
At least you know that you can always trust them one way or the other. So at least there’s that.
I’ve been to Pappa Rich a few times before, and well, they are consistent. Bad news is that they seem to be consistently average – childhood favourites get the slightly-more-authentic-than-western-but-less-consistent-than-asian treatment – but at least you know what you’re getting going in.
Which doesn’t exaplin my temporary amnesia everytime I choose to walk in when I’m feeling nostaligic. I mean, I know that I’m not getting the hit of home that I want, but for some reason I can’t help myself. The Char Kway Teow didn’t have the wok hei that I wanted, but the satay was tender and properly spiced.
You win some you lose some I guess. Maybe I should stick to ordering fried chicken skin.
Mmmmm. Chicken skin.