As a child, there was nothing I loved more than a buffet dinner. Specifically, a Sizzler buffet dinner. Where else in the world can you order a steak and side of potatoes (baked with sour cream is the only variety that matters) and wash it down with soup, nachos, a salad bar, cheesy bread and an endless dessert bar?
Sizzler was a dream.
I eventually woke up from the dream.
Translation: I grew up.
Suddenly, linoleum lined tables and tacky vinyl booths and food that you can see the grease condense on after being reheated 50 times seemed much less appealing.
Constructing a meal entirely of overcooked potato skins that go down like tree bark sounds like a circle of hell.
The thought of mixing a concoction of mushy soft-serve ice cream, sprinkles and stale mini marshmallows makes my insides physically shrivel up.
And don’t even get me started about the drinks station: queuing up while the kids (and some adults) in front of you perfect their finest orange/red/cola soda blends is something I no longer have the patience for.
Simply put, Sizzler is just gross.
I don’t understand the undying love (with the exception of the cheesy bread).
Every year for his birthday my younger brother requests we go to Sizzler. And every year I vehemently protest and then question his sanity: of all the places to eat, of all the wonderful foods that exist, why in the world is Sizzler your pick?
If I want a good steak, I’ll go to a steakhouse not to the only remaining Sizzler in New South Wales (it’s in Campbeltown for any of you heathens who are wondering).
If I want a salad, I’ll go to a fancy café and order a masterpiece. Will I have to pay a fortune plus my soul for it? Probably. But it’ll taste 100x better than a Sizzler salad bar creation minus the crappy croutons.
If I want all I can eat dessert, I’ll go into my pantry and get stuck into my chocolate stash. Anything more specific, like waffles or crepes or ice-cream, is worth leaving the house for. Dessert is no joke and if you’re the type of person who thinks a Sizzler dessert bar is heaven then you need to reconsider your properties and think about seeking professional help.
If I want a greasy fast food meal I will take a McDonald’s Big Mac any day. With chips. And nuggs. And a thick shake.
The point is: there are lots of things that are better than Sizzler. And, as far as fast foot chains go, Sizzler is at the bottom of the hierarchy.
While you might deny it until your dying breath, it seems like the majority of Aussies agree with me because ye old Sizzler restaurant is a dying breed. There are only ten of them remaining in the whole country, six of which are in Queensland which says… a lot.
Yes, I am aware that no Sizzler means no more cheesy bread. But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
Goodbye, old friend.