The best items on the IHOP menu, ranked from worst to best

Flaky and well-seared, this salmon comes glazed with miso-honey and a side of haricots verts sauteed in a foie gras beurre blanc. No, not really. This is essentially IHOP’s diner lobster. I did find this YouTube review by a guy who ate the salmon open-mouthed from a take-out container as rain pattered the roof of his car like so many teardrops. It begins with a line that sums it up well: “I can smell that,” awkward pause, “salmon.” Clocking in at just 250 calories, it’s likely equal to the whipped cream atop the pancakes, so there’s that. Also, props to IHOP for providing the provenance of its “fish”—suck it, fans of Pacific salmon.

I spotted this item from the “platter” section of the War and Peace-sized IHOP menu at the table of two older ladies as I was walking out. It’s five buttermilk-battered Nashville-spiced chicken fingers and a side of something fried—the ladies subbed onion rings. “That’s a good order,” I said to the women. “It is,” one of them said proudly. Later, I learned that this behemoth of a meal tops 2,000 calories, but hey, nobody’s ordering a salad at IHOP.

This item from the 12-and-under kid's menu is essentially just French toast cut into slices and jutting out of a paper cup. IHOP’s child-friendly packaging is seriously rizz. And the French toast is, as mentioned earlier, thick ‘n fluffy, so score. The kitchen forgot my chocolate dipping sauce, so I’ll just have to imagine it’s made from imported nibs that evoke a chocolatier along the Seine. Either that or just Hershey’s.

My server issued a warning when I asked for these: "I gotta warn you, they’re super hot." They were not. This spice level wouldn’t even make the first round on Hot Ones. Just the same, these well-crisped chicken tenders are crusted in a tasty spice mix that, while not spicy, is full of salty, garlicky flavor. Unfortunately, the undercooked waffle was the color of a dude who’s been trapped in a basement. The menu describes the waffles as Belgian, so maybe that’s a reference to a northern European’s skin tone? IHOP pro tip: ask for extra crispy waffles.

There's a lot of competition in the American breakfast plate wars, and it would be easy to argue that Denny's Grand Slam scores higher, even if it is several runs shy of an actual grand slam. IHOP’s iteration is pretty decent: medium-well scrambled eggs that could also have been pre-made by robots, hash browns that should be a whole lot crispier, bacon that needed two more minutes sizzling in their grease, and sausage links that would benefit from taking a little blue pill. But this is a diner breakfast, a hangover cure and not anything less than what you’d expect. It’s the side of pancakes, though, that makes this all worth it, a couple of buttermilk numbers that absolutely sponge up butter and syrup.

So you like cupcakes and milkshakes but don’t want to compromise. IHOP has the answer by essentially, I think, throwing a slice of birthday cake in the blender. It’s topped with whipped cream and sprinkles and tastes like you just hit your first home run in Little League. As I sucked this thing out of its straw, I realized washing down syrup-soaked pancakes with essentially liquid cake was the most ‘Merican thing I’ve ever done.

When I sat down and saw a dude across from me taking a bite of a burger, I thought: “Here’s a guy who lost an argument about where to go to dinner.” Then mine came, looking like a pretty decent version of the arms-day-at-the-gym version on the menu. Like everywhere else these days, this isn’t a smash burger but a probably pre-frozen, beefy patty with a slice of American and some decently crisp veg underneath. On the side are pretty good, albeit not very crispy skin-on fries, which, I learned on the internet, are made better by asking for a side of sausage gravy for dipping. It’s hard to argue against this burger, even for its $13 price tag. Better than fast food, better than most diners and a solid order for that dude whose kids never let him decide where to eat.

There isn’t a whole lot of international on the International House of Pancakes menu until you get to the crepe section. These aren't paper-thin Parisian ones with crispy edges—they’re more like the pancake batter was thinned out to create something the thickness of a gordita. The bravest among us can get them with chicken pesto or essentially with an entire breakfast combo inside (the French, upon learning that crepes have been stuffed with hash browns, would likely proclaim a hearty sacrebleu!). The Cinnamon Bun variety comes with cheesecake mousse, cinnamon bun filling, cream cheese icing and strawberry slices. And while that sounds like a great recipe for overdoing the flavors, or contracting diabetes, it actually works well, the cinnamon not overpowering and the whole thing somehow not too sweet. These crepes aren’t exactly a stamp on the passport, but I’m glad IHOP’s menu invited me to France.

Maybe this doesn’t come as much of a surprise, but IHOP griddles up some good pancakes. They’re crowd-pleasers, falling decidedly in the middle between crispy-edged johnny cakes and fluffy ones with lots of air in the batter. They come looking so uniform that I wondered if they’re pre-cooked at some automated corporate center. If these are AI-generated cakes, I will welcome our robot overlords because these aren’t just passable pancakes we’ve all eaten at roadside greasy spoons. They’re legitimately good, reminding me of the ones my grandfather would slap on our plates, one by one, as they came off the griddle. The addition of bananas, both in the batter and sliced on top, is a nice touch, as are the slightly jellied strawberries, which provide enough sweetness that this stack doesn’t need syrup.

First, we need to acknowledge that Thick ‘N Fluffy would be great names for a pair of new Shih Tzu puppies. Or also, after my feast at the IHOP, how to describe my backside. But this dish was a real surprise in its balanced textures and sweet versus sour. If plated into something that didn’t look like such a mess, because it does, it could be served across town at that brunch place with bottomless mimosas. The toast is, as promised, thick and fluffy, with an almost custard-like inside, with a bit of vanilla and cinnamon, giving it a nice undertone flavor, even without the toppings. The sugary ricotta and blueberries add sweetness, and then a squirt from a lemon slice brings a hit of sour that provides a nice balance. Out of everything on the table, I kept going back for this one, with no syrup needed, trying to build a perfect bite with toast, ricotta, blueberries and lemon. Thick, fluffy and honestly just quite excellent.