Comment
on this story

Friendly's
208 Advantage
560-9799

by Ally Carte

I am a Yankee. I will declare it loud and proud from rooftops, if required. But from my Yankee frame of reference, proclaiming anything in so grand a manner seems a bit, well, dangerous. Our rooftops usually have ice on them.

Don't get me wrong, I love living in the Southeast and even did a tour in the deep South and Texas. While I was struck dumb the first time a Southerner asked if I wanted "sweet" tea or regular tea (at least I knew she meant the iced variety), I've found this part of the country quite lovely, with wonderful food and equally wonderful weather.

Regardless, we Yankees are responsible for one of the friendliest places on Earth, and now Knoxville can finally get a taste of it. Last fall, Friendly's restaurants, founded in Wilbraham, Mass., in 1935, erected a new location in Alcoa. Another one sprouted up out in Cedar Bluff shortly thereafter, and 10 more are planned for the greater East Tennessee area. Yankees across the city rejoiced, since many of us were raised on Friendly's family fare and frozen delights and could finally find our faves without a trip back home.

You'd be hard-pressed to find a Northeastern-bred kid who doesn't have fond memories of Friendly's. In fact, a quick poll in the MP offices proves this true—except for those raised in Western Pennsylvania, who actually went to Eat 'n' Park, which is a similar but inferior version of the same casual dining theme. Friendly's is where you went after little league games, after you had a good report card, and after your heart got broken for the first time. The reason why is simple: while Friendly's has decent, middle-of-the-road food, it also has the world's best ice cream offerings. Hands down.

Almost anything legal you can think of doing with ice cream, Friendly's has done. You can get a sundae with up to five scoops and mixed with all sorts of sweet bits, from Reese's pieces to Oreo cookies, a milkshake made extra-thick or with sherbet or with more chunky candy items, cake and ice-cream logs, or any one of two dozen ice cream flavors topped with a scrumptious sauce like hot fudge or caramel. Mmmmmm. I'm drooling just thinking about it.

Of course, once the West Knox franchise opened, the spouse (who is also from colder climes) and I were there as quickly as the traffic, which is getting exponentially worse, could carry us.

Tempted as we were to start with dessert, real food beckoned. After an order of Mozzarella Sticks ($5.49) that had exactly the right ratio of crunchy breading to creamy cheese, we dug into the main course—a Fish Supermelt ($6.49) for him and a Chicken Wrapper ($6.49) for me. Around a mouthful of deep-fried and plank-like whitefish, the old man muttered something about "not expecting it to taste so processed." The Wrapper, which was a tortilla filled with fried chicken pieces, lettuce, tomato, and honey-mustard dressing, was fine, I suppose. But it was disheartening that these plates came with shoestring fries instead of the Krinkle Kut kind—the staple of the Friendly's of old. Ah, well.

The worst that can be said of Friendly's non-ice-cream offerings is that vegetarians would have a rough time unless they liked appetizers, and that the food is decidedly bland. Not a huge surprise, really, given the sheer number of kids, teens, and parents present.

As a grown-up in that awkward stage between college graduation and motherhood, I've grown to expect a dining-out experience to be a bit more taste-bud tingling. But Friendly's is about so much more than just the food. There's something just decidedly cozy about having dinner there on a blustery winter's night, watching young parents earnestly cajoling young kids to eat, listening while teenagers sing along to piped-in Backstreet Boys songs, and eavesdropping on an older couple planning an upcoming trip. It's just nice—not fantastic, not a new culinary experience—just nice.

What wasn't nice, though, was the molasses-like slowness of the wait-staff and kitchen. I'll be the first to admit that Yankees and Southerners run on two completely different notions of time, but the 30-minute wait between ordering dessert and actually eating it was too much. Granted, any wait would seem too long for a Yankee jonesing for a Friendly's hot fudge sundae, but this was excessive. And it's not as if the place was remarkably busy; in fact, one of the waiters had plenty of time to perform what appeared to be a one-man show about Mario's return to the Penguins for a table of appreciative guests.

Eventually, the ice cream came. Between us, we split a hot fudge sundae made with one scoop of Vienna mocha chip and one of chocolate chip cookie dough ($1.79). And, suddenly, all was right again with the world.
 

January 25, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 4
© 2001 Metro Pulse