Apple co-founder Steve Jobs is widely credited with saying, “Don’t try to do everything. Do one thing well.”
The Peach Cobbler Factory seems to have taken Jobs’ advice to heart, if not followed it to the letter. Instead of serving appetizers, entrees, salads, sides and sweets (like The Cheesecake Factory, for example), PCF does what I wish I could do when I sit down to a catered meal and a server has already placed a slice of cake nearby – skip right to dessert.
The question, however, is whether or not PCG does dessert well.
PCF hit Chattanooga like a September storm when it opened on East MLK Boulevard last week. Overnight, my social media feed exploded with superlatives aimed at the new dessert shop and its sweet treats.
“Your blackberry was out of sight!” raved one cobbler critic on Facebook.
“Your sweet potato pecan was to die for!” gushed another.
“Your cinnamon peach praline was fantastic!” declared a third fan.
So, I went in expecting great things.
If I’d grown up in the south, this is where I’d insert an anecdote about my mother’s peach cobbler and insist no one could make a better one. But I was reared in Toledo, Ohio, where my mother made a mean strawberry rhubarb pie.
You don’t want to read about my favorite childhood dessert, though; you want to know if PCF is worth the drive, the search for downtown parking and the wait.
The menu suggests it is.
PCF prepares and sells three basic items: vanilla rolls, cobbler and banana pudding. As the comments I pulled from Facebook reveal, there are also variations of each item.
For example, you can add Nutella to your vanilla roll, or if you’re falling short of your daily recommended intake of carbs, stuff the roll with cobbler. When you order a banana pudding, you can swap out the vanilla wafers with Oreo cookies, which is kind of brilliant.
Then there are the many cobblers. In addition to peach, the versions available the day of my visit included honey apple, cherry, strawberry, mango peach, strawberry peach, caramel apple, blackberry peach, apple walnut raisin and the ones mentioned on Facebook.
All of these items are listed on a blackboard to your left as you enter PCF. While the sight of a line hugging the wall all the way to the back of the establishment, curving to the opposite wall and snaking up to the cashier initially dismayed me, I quickly became grateful for the wait, as I had trouble deciding.
The wait was not too long, however, and within several minutes, a sugary sweet voice was asking me what I’d like.
“One cinnamon roll and one peach cobbler,” I replied.
I’d decided to try the basics “as is” and not dress them up, just to get a sense of the fundamentals for this write-up. Looking back, I wish I’d added a scoop of ice cream to my cobbler, but then again, I was already going to exceed my DRI of carbs.
Then that sweet voice said something I was not expecting: “$18.57, please.”
I looked up from my wallet, certain either I’d heard her wrong or she’d fumbled her words. But she wasn’t blinking – and neither was the card reader, which read “$18.57.”
Believing the menu would resolve the error, I glanced at the blackboard, which confirmed the price. Apparently, my eyes had skipped over the cost of each item, which was there in big, bold, colored chalk: $9 for the cobbler and $8 for the vanilla roll.
I thought about ordering a peachy sweet tea to wash down the lump in my throat, but I was already spending more than I’d expected, so I paid for my order and walked to the front of the building to wait.
I’d just settled onto the window ledge when the woman who took my order called my name and held up a bag.
Eager to experience what had stricken PCF’s customers with impressive bouts of hyperbole – and curious what $9 worth of cobbler tasted like – I grabbed the bag, stepped outside and dug in. (As of Jan. 15, there were no tables or chairs inside PCF.)
And, well, it was OK. Or at least the cobbler was.
Made with what appeared to be canned peaches, the cobbler tasted fine. The filling was very sweet and the crust was decent. But, as I wrote earlier, I was expecting greatness, and the cobbler was merely OK.
The vanilla roll, however, mystified me. Made with an airy bread and drenched in icing, I placed it aside after a few bites. There was simply nothing there to keep me eating.
As I write this, I know a lot of people would disagree with my assessment of the cobbler. And that’s OK. Flavor can be objective.
Plus, I tried the peach cobbler, and perhaps I should have ordered one of the variations and added ice cream. I also could have tested the banana pudding.
I might never know if I would have enjoyed these selections, though, because the prices turned me off. Call me crazy, but I think $9 is too much for a cup of cobbler. (And don’t get me started on the price of the vanilla roll.)
As one of the characters in “The Royal Tenenbaums” says, “Don’t be mad at me. This is just one man’s opinion.” Perhaps, like the cashier and the card reader, the prices don’t make you blink.
If that’s the case, you’ll be in good company. Chattanooga’s PCF is the company’s seventh in four states, and there are plans to open around 50 more – including one in Toledo, Ohio, where my mother’s strawberry rhubarb pie still reigns supreme.