Drinking in (Restaurant) Chains: Cocktails From Glitzy to Best Avoided

I’m a born-and-bred New Yorker, and I've lived in the Big Apple all my life (so far, at least), just as my parents did before me. When I was growing up, the five boroughs were largely bereft of national chain restaurants. Hell, even McDonald’s didn’t breach the city borders until the ‘70s. But seeing all the commercials for Denny’s, Red Lobster, Applebee’s and the like — none of which were within the city limits — without getting to go to any of them lent an enticing, almost exotic vibe to the whole category. It was only much later, when the chains finally invaded Gotham, that I discovered their food was a lot more compelling in my TV-fueled fantasies than in real life.

I’m such a Noo Yawker that I’ve never even bothered to acquire a driver’s license. Thanks to indulgent friends, and later an indulgent spouse, all with licenses, I haven’t suffered much from my auto-averse lifestyle. But my luck finally ran out when I had to stay in upstate New York for a month with my 11-year-old daughter, who was busy making her big-screen acting debut in Theater Camp (sure to be one of 2023’s best films, you heard it here first!). We were provided transportation to and from the set every day, but apart from that, we were on our own. We got one glorious meal a day on the set courtesy of craft services; and a complimentary buffet breakfast in the hotel every morning (make-your-own-waffle machines FTW); but for dinner we were on our own and, without a car, out of luck. We found a couple of decent places within delivery range on Seamless, but it just so happened our Hampton Inn was within walking distance of a Chili’s, an Outback, AND a TGI Fridays, all of which were open late-ish, accommodating Darling Daughter’s unpredictable schedule.

If I had to eat national chain restaurant food, I figured I might as well sample their cocktails as well. I made sure to try two from each locale — not exactly comprehensive, I know, but there’s only so much sugar and sour mix one body can accommodate. Fortunately or not, I’d dined at Olive Garden just before we trekked upstate, so I got to include them in this by-no-means complete round-up as well.

I survived. I had a better time than I thought I’d have. On occasion, I even got a little tipsy. And at the end of the day, I got to write off all the meals. If that’s not winning, I don’t know what is.

Outback Steakhouse

The Smoked Cinnamon Pecan Old Fashioned & Aussie Rum Punch

As a confirmed city slicker, I haven’t tried — at least not recently — anywhere near all the national chain restaurants that dot the suburbs and exit ramps of ‘Murica. But from my limited sample size, the best of the bunch is Outback. Not only does the food taste pretty good, if too salty, it also doesn’t twist my stomach in excruciating knots for hours like other chains do. Keens or Peter Luger it ain’t, but for Middletown, New York, it wasn’t bad. As for the drinks… you know smoked cocktails have jumped the shark when Outback starts making ‘em. But rather than harp on the Aussie-themed meat emporium’s timing, let’s judge the cocktail on its own merits, why don’t we. New to Outback’s “Top Notch ‘Tails” menu, this Old Fashioned employs Woodford Reserve bourbon — a favorite in steakhouses of all sorts all over this great land of ours — plus “house-infused cinnamon-pecan syrup,” and Angostura bitters, which is then smoked over oak and served with one large rock and a twist of orange peel. There’s really only one way to screw up an Old Fashioned, and that’s by making it too sweet. I figured they’d kill the drink with an excess of syrup, but while it was sweeter than what I make at home, it was also quite palatable, with a distinct cinnamon zing. The smoky aroma and flavor were mild and dissipated fairly quickly, but the smoke was certainly a nice touch visually. There’s no way I could have told you the bourbon was Woodford, but again, it was serviceable, and I downed all of mine without intending to. A perfectly adequate pairing with my perfectly adequate filet mignon/coconut shrimp combo.

Aussie Rum Punch at Outback Steakhouse — Aussie Rum Punch

I had the same food the next time, but for cocktails, I decided to go with the chain’s Australian theme and ordered an Aussie Rum Punch, a pinkish-red (or perhaps a reddish-pink) combo of Mount Gay rum (I’m guessing it was their mixing-friendly Eclipse expression), Malibu coconut “rum” (it’s not technically a rum, but that’s a whole ‘nuther story), allegedly fresh lime, and mango and cranberry juices, served on the rocks with wedges of both lime and orange. The first few sips were over-the-top sweet, but I could taste each ingredient distinctly, even the rum — a little. Thank goodness for that little lime wedge. A squeeze of unadulterated citrus balanced the drink out considerably, though it was still a few wedges short of how I’d have made it. But you know, it tasted like a rum punch, and not a bad one at that. Not that I’d usually have a rum punch with a steak dinner, but it was a pretty decent combo.

Chili’s

Premium Long Island Iced Tea & Presidente Margarita

“But daddy, I don’t like chili!” my daughter said when I told her we were going to Chili’s for dinner. I had to explain to her that the name refers to the pepper, not the dish. Turns out she enjoyed their fine cuisine more than any of the other ubiquitous national chain restaurants she’s been to, giving her Kraft mac and cheese (with real cheese, not the powdered stuff) and corn on the cob two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Since Chili’s is supposed to be Southwestern cuisine, I know that margaritas are the go-to drinks there. But as soon as I saw the words “Premium Long Island Iced Tea,” I knew what I had to try. The popular combo of tequila, vodka, gin, rum, triple sec, and sour mix probably hadn’t crossed my lips since before I was old enough to legally drink one. Since my familiarity didn’t extend into the age of the cocktail renaissance, I was prepared for an ‘80s-style LI Iced Tea, and that’s exactly what Chili’s delivered. The boozy ingredient lineup doesn’t sound particularly premium — El Jimador tequila, Bacardi Ron Superior, Bombay gin, and Svedka vodka — but the Patron Citronge used in place of triple sec was a pretty upscale move. Enough sour mix was employed to make it taste vaguely like lemonade, but with something sinister and boozy lurking just beneath the surface. I guess you’re meant to gulp it down the way you’d drink a glass of Country Time, with the intention of getting effed up. And indeed, it did get me a little buzzed, which is not something you can say for most chain restaurant libations. I don’t know whether it was the cocktail or the food, but it also royally messed up my stomach for the next 24 hours or so. The adequacy of the drink, sadly, was not worth the pain and suffering that came with it.

Presidente Margarita at Chili's — Presidente Margarita. Photo courtesy of Brinker International

But my sense of obligation combined with the daughter’s love for the food got us back there in short order. Our server was on us before I’d really had a chance to study the menu, but this time, I was ready to Tex-Mex it up. I went whole hog and ordered a Presidente Margarita. The blend of Lunazul reposado tequila, Citronge, and E & J Brandy (!) was, so the menu says, “hand shaken 25 times.” How could I resist! Alas, the shaking wasn’t done anywhere near our table, so I had to trust that someone was on hand to count each shake. Regardless, it was a well-blended concoction, served on the rocks in a small salt-rimmed glass along with an exceedingly generous sidecar that filled the glass several times over. To be fair, the glass was chock full of ice, but it still felt generous. The booze was complemented by… well, I couldn’t tell if it was fresh squeezed lime juice with a whole lot of sugar added or a bottled lime juice like Rose’s. Either way, the result tasted more like something I’d drink from a Snapple bottle than a fancy cocktail glass. I could discern exactly zero tequila, and only traces of triple sec and brandy. For a Snapple drink, however, it wasn’t bad, and the fact that I once again got buzzed indicated that either I’m more of a lightweight than I thought or there was some liquor lurking in there someplace.

TGI Fridays

Ten to One Lavender Lemonade & Royal LIT

TGI Fridays actually looms large in the legend of the craft cocktail movement. When the first branch opened in midtown Manhattan in 1965, it was one of the very first singles bars, as opposed to male-centric saloon-style watering holes. And its cocktail program was pretty much unparalleled, with bartenders expected to memorize literally hundreds of cocktail recipes and having to pass a rigorous test before being allowed behind the stick. Alas, those days are long gone — the drinks menu is a lot smaller and more in line with other national chains nowadays.

Ten to One Lavender Lemonade at TGI Friday's — Ten to One Lavender Lemonade

That said, I was surprised to find Ten To One — a quality blend of Jamaican pot still and Dominican column still rums, bottled at 90 proof and a NY International Spirits 2022 Competition silver medal winner — on the menu, let alone featured by name. But Ten To One founder Marc Farrell was an exec at Starbucks before he became a purveyor of rum, so it’s certainly a testament to his business acumen. Alas, the cocktail in which it’s used is not a testament to fine, or even competent, mixology. A newbie to their cocktail menu, the Lavender Lemonade includes Ten To One, lemonade, Monin lavender lemon syrup, club soda, and butterfly pea powder to give it a delightful lavender hue. A hidden light at the bottom of the glass, whose exact location my daughter and I failed to discern, made it look even more dazzling.

Tragically, the case of love at first sight quickly morphed into revulsion at first sip. If there was any club soda in there, I failed to taste it. Same goes for the lemonade. And the rum, for that matter. It tasted like nothing so much as a glass of lavender lemon syrup on the rocks. I did drink most of it just to see if I could tease out some additional flavors, or at least get a little buzz on, but it failed on both counts. We did enjoy our food — buttered pasta for the kiddo, overcooked salmon with jasmine rice for me, overcooked but kinda delicious lemon buttered broccoli for the both of us — but while the cocktail didn’t ruin the meal, it didn’t enhance it, either.

Royal Long Island Iced Tea at TGI Friday's — Royal Long Island Iced Tea

Our second visit was more successful on the drinks front. I was tempted to go for the Cotton Candy Cosmo, but settled for the Royal LIT, or Long Island Iced Tea, which was one of their new signature cocktails. Not having read the menu in as great detail as I should have, I assumed that Crown Royal would figure prominently therein, and what’s wrong with that? I mean, blended Canadian whiskies may not be the most exciting booze in the world, but they’re pleasant and inoffensive. Alas, there wasn’t a drop to be found here. Instead, it contained TWO spirits owned in part by Sean “Puff Daddy/Diddy/Bo Diddley/Tweedle Deedy” Combs, DeLeon Tequila and Ciroc Vodka, along with Bacardi’s Ron Superior, New Amsterdam gin, and an unidentified triple sec. Oh, and mentioned-by-name Coca-Cola, of course. It also contained something totally unexpected, given my previous Fridays’ cocktail — real lemon juice. I mean, it might have been cut with sour mix, but the cocktail had that refreshing tartness that comes from a fruit, not a bottle. As such, it didn’t taste quite like the Long Island Iced Teas of my youth, or Chili’s version, for that matter. But it was bright and light, if not very boozy, and I enjoyed it thoroughly, not least for the blingy crown-shaped swizzle stick which, to my eternal dismay, I forgot to take with me when we left. And the food didn’t give me massive indigestion, either. Fridays, consider yourself at least partially redeemed.

Olive Garden

Amaretto Sour & Italian Margarita

The first time I ate at Olive Garden, four or five years ago, I was disappointed. I was hoping for cuisine that was either inedibly horrific or surprisingly delicious (authentic Italian cuisine, however, was not something I dared dream of). Instead, I got mediocre Americanized Italian eats — edible, sure, but much more boring than I expected. Even their vaunted breadsticks were just OK, although I think I’m in the minority with that opinion. Anyway, I went back at the behest of my best friend, who promised to be my guide through the magical Garden of Olive and open my eyes, heart, and taste buds to its multitude of delights. Alas, she failed. It’s all… adequate, I guess. And I just don’t get the appeal of the breadsticks, other than they’re unlimited.

When I see a blue drink on a menu, I usually order it. But Olive Garden’s Blue Amalfi (“inspired by the Amalfi coast”), a mix of blue Curaçao, lemonade and vodka, just didn’t sound very appealing, apart from the color. So I went with a classic of sorts, a drink beloved by many a high schooler, and by some of us older folks even now. That’s right, I’m talking about the Amaretto Sour, a mix of, well, amaretto and sour mix — no fresh squeezed juices here. And because it’s not mentioned by name, I assume the amaretto they use isn’t DiSaronno, the only amaretto most folks know. I’m cool with sour mix because my heyday of amaretto sour drinking was back in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s, when everyone put sour mix in everything. I actually don’t know if it would taste proper with fresh lemon juice and simple syrup, and I don’t really care. This drink is simple, hard to screw up, and tasty — sweet and sour all in proportion, and it goes down nice n’ easy. The only thing they got wrong was, instead of a Maraschino cherry garnish, they used a lime wedge. But I’ll let it slide. Not half bad, I declared.

My amiga’s cocktail, on the other hand, WAS half bad. The Italian Margarita contains Cuervo silver tequila, triple sec, and — wait for it — an amaretto float, with a sugared rim. Molto Italiano! And oh my gosh, was it sweet. I feel my pancreas quivering just thinking about it. It did look prettier than mine, what with the sugared rim and orange AND lime sections perched thereon. But mine was more, you know, drinkable. So I think I won, if it was indeed a contest. And if I ever go back, I’ll likely order the Amaretto Sour again.