Panera Bread

In Spanish, Panera translates to breadbasket. Instead, it should translate to waste basket.

As a child, a quick treat at Panera Bread always served as my father’s way to comfort me after a haircut at Hair Story, the local barber shop. To me, it seemed as if Hair Story’s barbers, much to my father’s approval, took pleasure in torturing me in that black barber shop chair -- a chair likely a relative of modern-day electric chairs used by executioners. These barbers would press their razors against my scalp, making me the subject of much embarrassment as I bawled in pain in my seat. They would take pleasure in spinning my seat in circle after circle, causing me to stumble like a drunk once my haircut was complete. And they would not stop cutting until even I began to question if I was still a six-year-old or a new recruit to the U.S. Army.

Nonetheless, none of this truly mattered to me, so long as my father took me to Panera Bread immediately after my haircut. Ambling into the bustling restaurant, I would always be amazed by the sight that greeted me: a long line of impatient customers, all eyeing the freshly baked loaves of amber, crispy bread behind the front counter; the hustle and bustle of bakers, working nonstop to maintain this ever-depleting bread supply; the beams of well-fed adults and children alike, all absorbed in endless conversation. Panera Bread took my mind off of the torture that I experienced at Hair Story. Given its rich American history, Panera Bread not only filled me up with some much needed comfort food but also provided an atmosphere ideal for reconciliation between my father and me.

However, following my latest visit to Panera Bread, I am left questioning if I should have ever forgiven my father for those disastrous childhood haircuts. And I am surely convinced that the restaurant no longer has any standards.

Visiting the restaurant with a group of friends on a frigid Saturday morning, it was unsurprising to see a familiar line of customers gathered near the front counter -- some delighted to be embraced in the restaurant’s warmth, others disgruntled having not yet eaten breakfast. The “line,” however, is a mess: while some impatiently stand single file, most gather in small groups, deciding what to order; consequently, those entering the Panera are left confused, unknowingly cutting the back-end of the line. To remedy this incoming congestion, the restaurant was fitted with an automated kiosk; however, being not so intelligently situated near the front counter, it only adds to the confusion of those wanting to get in line.

While standing in line, customers are annoyed by the buzzing of flies -- yes, flies. These creatures of filth and grime move swiftly around the front counter, with some teasing customers having to wait for close to fifteen minutes before being able to order and others flying disgustingly close to the pastries and loaves of bread on display for all. Let a rat run loose in the restaurant and the South Riding Panera Bread would be ground zero for the next wave of the bubonic plague.

Upon placing your order, you are forced to wait in yet another line for your food -- with the same disgruntled people that you unknowingly cut upon walking in. And after receiving your meal -- well, your chances of finding a seat are as high as your willingness to consume canned chimpanzee meat soaked in urine and human bile would be.

You’ll probably be left scanning the restaurant for a table much like a vulture scans the wild for its prey. Once you find one, however, you’ll be left cleaning breadcrumbs and spilled coffee (and fly droppings, for all I know) off of it. And do not expect any of Panera’s petulant employees -- whose hospitality falls well short of their $7.25 an hour paychecks -- to assist you; your struggle is one of the few forms of entertainment that their slow workday affords them.

However, these leftovers are a meal fit for a king when compared to items on Panera’s menu such as its chocolate croissants, each injected with more chocolate than can be found in Augustus Gloop’s stomach. Frustratingly, Panera has also begun making length-wide incisions in their chocolate croissants, causing even the softest of bites into one to result in an eruption of chocolate across one’s face. Though drinking milk can help neutralize the chocolate croissant’s aforementioned overload of sugar and chocolate, you will likely find yourself finishing your cup of milk only halfway through consuming your croissant. Why Panera makes their chocolate croissants so sugary and chocolatey, I have no clue. But perhaps it is to mask the pungent taste of the baby powder sprinkled ever so delicately on top of these croissants, baby powder that Panera claims is powdered sugar.

Equally as bad as a chocolate croissant is the cherry cheese brittany, a pastry that Panera scams unsuspecting customers into ordering. Superficially, the cherry cheese brittany appears delectable, with the menu depicting it as a bed of ruby-red cherries overlooking a kingdom of flaky, crispy puff pastry. Though the puff pastry succeeds in living up to its appeal, the brittany’s artificial, ruby-red cherries and mushroom-colored cheese simply do not complement each other -- instead, they leave famished restaurant-goers with a repugnant taste in their mouths. In fact, it is quite surprising that this pastry gets part of its name from the French region of Brittany, rather than from the French region of Normandy; after all, it does taste as if troops invading Normandy on D-Day stepped all over it.

The list goes on. There is the blueberry scone, which tastes as if rock-hard blueberries were incorporated into the Pillsbury Doughboy’s feces. There is the cinnamon scone, which tastes of cinnamon -- just after the Pillsbury Doughboy has thrown it up.

However, there are also the bagels and breads, food items that Panera is most famed for. The sesame bagel is nothing short of mediocre, with it tasting stale despite me lathering it in copious amounts of surprisingly tasty cream cheese. There is also the everything bagel, which is everything but perfect; it tastes as if it was left on the ground to harden, picking up dust and the occasional falling popping seed, and served, ground to table.

Most importantly, there is the country rustic bread, one of Panera’s most famed. The loaf of bread is large enough to feed five people, and, like much of the aforementioned items, is reasonably priced. With a remarkably crispy exterior and an exceptionally fluffy interior, the country rustic bread was perhaps the best item that I sampled while at Panera -- not a particularly impressive title. Even still, the country rustic bread falls short of the standards that Panera sets its breads to. Though the first few bites are indeed pleasing, the bread’s crispy exterior quickly begins to taste of seashells, becoming almost as painful as a jawbreaker to bite into.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment of the morning was not a food item but a beverage: Panera’s Signature Hot Chocolate. Topped with whipped cream and marshmallows with chocolate chips, this beverage is alarmingly sweeter than Panera’s chocolate croissants. And the taste -- it’s as if someone was signing their name into the beverage with a pen, only to have the ink in the pen splot all over the hot chocolate (hence the name, Signature Hot Chocolate).

Because Panera Bread’s tables are located in uncomfortably close proximity to one another, it takes little to no effort to overhear other restaurant-goers’ conversations. Strangely, whether it be an elderly couple or another group of teenagers, Panera no longer seems to ignite excited conversation but rather seems to kill it. Conversations are kept simple, with the “How are you doing?,” “What are your plans for this weekend?,” and “Should we order anything else?” periodically making up for much of the restaurant’s silence. Oftentimes, it is easy to spot more than one bored individual staring at the abstract paintings hanging from the walls, trying to make them out, or another individual trying to identify the faint classical music playing over the restaurant’s speakers. Most, in fact, will not usher a single word after ordering their morning cup of coffee, secluding themselves with their laptops in the restaurant’s corners. Sure, there may be the occasional screech of an unruly child but other than that -- nothing.

Panera’s addicts will, of course, continue to hold the restaurant dear to their hearts, arguing that the restaurant truly does live up to the meaning of its name: breadbasket. They will begin asking questions and fabricate responses based on the answers to those questions. “What time did you go?” “Oh, that’s too late for fresh bread -- you should have gone earlier.” “Why did you go with a group?” “They’re much more accommodating if you go by yourself.” “Did you even try this, or that?” “Oh, that’s pathetic. You can’t say that you’ve gone to Panera without trying those.” The truth is, I can. And if fabricated responses are what these addicts rely on to defend their beloved restaurant, a fundamental question arises. Is Panera Bread the place to go after a torturous haircut at Hair Story?

Ten years ago, the answer would have been “Yes.” But today, Hair Story is the place to go after a torturous experience at Panera Bread.

Panera Bread

25042 Riding Plaza Drive,

South Riding, VA 20152