The Times Square Chain Restaurant Power Rankings

Come For: Good times, al dente spaghetti, and parmesan shakers on the table.

With its dangling chandeliers, checkered tablecloths, and deceptive photo of Frank Sinatra in an Italian restaurant that isn’t Tony’s, Tony’s is just the right amount of tacky. Caesar salads and chicken parm are served with tableside flair, and the spaghetti and meatballs or rigatoni alla vodka are always al dente, with pungent sauce. Just keep in mind that portions here are gargantuan. Cruise ship-big, and windowless enough to host a corporate conference, this family-style spot (which has just one other location, on the Upper East Side) is like Bucca di Beppo, if the food at Bucca di Beppo was really, really good.

Come For: Slightly pixelated old music videos and nachos portioned to feed a film crew.

Planet Hollywood isn’t just for middle-schoolers on a choir trip—locals with a taste for kitsch will dig it, too. Instead of movie memorabilia, screens line the dining room, playing mostly generic, semi-immersive stock videos. You’re on a spaceship. A knight battles a dragon. Sharks swim around. The clumsiness of the execution works in Planet Hollywood's favor, because it’s fun to guess what could possibly come next. Also, the food ranges from not bad to pretty good, and the servers are on their game (read our review to find out what happens when you order a birthday sundae).

Come For: A second round of lasagna after Tony’s—and a surprisingly great free bread basket.

Sinatra makes another appearance at Carmine’s, where the food is a few rungs below Tony’s, but the red sauce dinner theater is just as entertaining. Inside the 500-seat outpost of this New York institution (their original location is on the Upper West Side), Ol' Blue Eyes croons away, while servers scurry around with platters of penne alla vodka the size of flying saucers. Under the elaborate candelabra chandeliers and gigantic portraits of Jimmy Durante, the portions almost don’t feel as absurd as they are—until you’re already full, two meatballs in. It's all just tasty enough to go back for seconds, and every New Yorker should come at least once. Get the chicken parm and something with vodka sauce.

Come For: A touristy simulation of a barbecue experience with shockingly solid brisket.

Why does Virgil’s specify that it’s “Real Barbecue”? Is it supposed to be reassuring? Because it's not. If anything, the words have the opposite effect. But here’s a real curveball for you: The ribs here are actually pretty good, with lots of melty fat and a crust so salty it burns the inside of your mouth. The brisket is also oddly respectable—not too dry, a good amount of smoke—and the wood-paneled, bi-level space almost makes you feel like you’re in a real BBQ joint. (As long as you ignore all the tourists and nachos.) Skip the pulled pork, but do try the coleslaw.

Come For: An avalanche of frozen drinks, plus a rib or two.

The Henny Colada at Dallas BBQ is more than a cocktail. It’s a full-on meal, and it’s reason enough to visit this chain when you’re in the mood to suck down a concrete-thick dessert swirled with, maybe not the finest of cognacs, but one with great brand recognition. At this spacious restaurant, where life-size buffalo gallop across the walls, the mood is festive, communal, and slightly grim. The space could use an update, and the packs of out-of-state high schoolers do kind of harsh the partytime vibes, but the ribs aren’t bad. Don’t kid yourself, though. You're here for the drinks.

Come For: An escape with bibs and blue margaritas.

The biggest draw of this three-story Red Lobster (besides the unlimited Cheddar Bay Biscuits) is that you forget you’re actually in Times Square. The huge dining room on the top floor doesn’t have any windows, so instead of being stared down by a model in a 20-foot Gap billboard, you can relax in your booth decorated with faux portholes. This won’t be the best seafood you’ll ever have, and your waiter might periodically forget you exist, but you’re here for an afternoon of reckless abandon filled with blue margaritas as big as your head, endless rounds of decently cooked shrimp, and a lobster bib you’ll wear with pride.

Come For: The best service in all five boroughs, and to learn the true meaning of unlimited.

This three-floor Times Square location is the world’s largest Olive Garden, and yet from the second you’re seated at a big round table under a painting of Venice, you’ll be treated as if you come here every Sunday for alfredo. Sure, every pasta dish was frozen 20 minutes before it arrived at your table, but that’s beside the point. For best results, avoid the pasta all together. Stick to pitchers of sangria and the $15.99 Never-Ending Soup, Salad & Breadsticks, because, as our server told us, “If you want 500 soups, 500 salads, and 500 breadsticks, I’ll bring that to you.”

Come For: An extremely sweet cocktail in a collectible glass, and rock memorabilia.

Compared to some of the other spots in Times Square, the Hard Rock Cafe has a pretty serious selling point. If you’re a music history nerd, there’s some cool memorabilia: Paul McCartney’s bass, one of Bob Dylan’s leather jackets, and a shrine to CBGB, which is ironic, because this is one of the more corporate feeling restaurants in the area (complete with Top 40 music). You’ll walk in through a gift shop, and order off a drink menu where you can get anything in a collectible glass for just a few dollars more. The burgers and nachos are not impressive, but their commitment to merchandising is.

Come For: Flabby wings and indulging your inner child.

At the Times Square Dave & Buster's, you ascend up an escalator to inner child heaven. Here you can fuel up on chicken tenders and spend your money on wheel spins and other arcade games in exchange for tickets. Those tickets won’t pay for your dinner, but will pay for things like M&M-flavored lip balm, or new headphones. Bring a group of friends (or children), grab some jello shots, and make use of the complimentary hand sanitizer if you're planning on eating. The food here is, sadly, not good. The pretzel dogs are strangely sweet and chewy, and the wings come out of the fryer all flabby. Take your prize and go elsewhere for a meal.

Come For: An evening of flavorless shrimp while Tom Hanks watches over you.

At Bubba Gump Shrimp, you’ll see a life preserver with the name “Jenny” on it. In the end, of course, Forrest couldn’t save Jenny. But at least he and Robert Zemeckis inspired this worldwide chain where the fries are well-spiced and the ultra-thin steak is so tender it comes across as pre-chewed. If you and 49 friends need somewhere to eat after you see The Lion King on Broadway, pop on in and pop some shrimp. The seafood doesn’t taste the least bit fresh, but you already knew that.

Come For: A nice, long stare into the abyss.

When you have a moment, please check in on the Times Square Applebee’s. It doesn’t seem to be doing too hot. And that’s really a shame, because the idea of Applebee’s has so much potential. In a city where cocktails often cost $20 a pop, the ones here feel like bargains, especially given their fishbowl-like portions. (Even the so-called Top-Shelf Long Island Iced Tea only will only set you back around $14.) The food is another matter, but let’s not talk about that. Instead, let’s all band together and help this place fix up its carpets, clean its windows, and get those weird gas tanks away from the stairwell.

Come For: No. Do not.

If you’ve somehow gotten it in your head that you should go to the temple of Jimmy Buffet—even ironically—please, for the love of tequila and your own sanity, don't do it. The last time we were here, we witnessed someone being forcibly removed after pretending it was 5 o’clock somewhere for one margarita too long. We regrettably learned what a Caribbean Chicken Egg Roll tastes like. We ordered a tequila-accented concoction which came in a plastic, blender-shaped cup that we felt obliged to take home. It was a Friday night, and it was empty. Everything about this place feels cursed—right down to the floor-to-ceiling bust of the Statue of Liberty, holding a giant margarita glass. We will not be going back, and neither should you.