Restaurant Industry Secrets

Provided by Men's Health

One of the true issues behind obesity is that many restaurant chains obfuscate the fat and calorie counts of their menu items.

The Nutrition Labeling and Education Act of 1990 absolves restaurants of all nutritional liability to the American public. Under that legislation, no fast-food or chain restaurants are required to provide calorie, fat, or sodium information unless they describe the items as "low-sodium" or "low-fat."

Through scientific testing and consultations with nutrition experts, Men's Health "Eat This, Not That" authors uncovered dietary secrets these mega-restaurateurs have been keeping.

It's no wonder . . .

Outback Steakhouse doesn't want you to know that the only nutritional information it provides is for its Tangy Tomato Dressing. When we contacted the company, a spokesperson claimed, "Ninety percent of our meals are prepared by hand...Any analysis would be difficult to measure consistently." Yet no fewer than 45 national chain restaurants do just that. (Hey, in case you were wondering, an order of Outback's Aussie Cheese Fries has 2,900 calories, and its Ayers Rock Strip has 60 grams of fat.)

IHOP doesn't want you to know that its Omelette Feast has 1,335 calories and 35 grams of saturated fat. (By the time you finish eating this behemoth breakfast, you'll have consumed 150 percent of your daily fat requirement and 300 percent of your suggested cholesterol intake.) Said IHOP's director of communications, "We do not maintain nutritional data on our menu items, so I am unable to assist you."

Applebee's doesn't want you to know that many of its "low-fat" items have more than 500 calories. (In fact, its low-fat chicken quesadillas have 742 calories and 90 grams of carbohydrates per order.)

Fuddruckers doesn't want you to know the fat content of its 1-pound burgers. We contacted our local Fuddruckers restaurant and were told that the nutritional information was available on the chain's Web site (it's not). The corporate office later responded that providing such information would be "very extensive [sic] and timely."

Hooters doesn't want you to know anything about what's in its food. Although chains such as Chili's and Uno Chicago Grill divulge the thousands of calories in their chicken wings, Hooters blames its nutritional-disclosure negligence on its expansive menu, which contains about 25 entrées: "Because of the millions of combinations available and our desire to frequently give you new menu options, it is impossible to provide accurate nutritional data," responded a PR representative. Our own investigation revealed that the chain's wing sauce (which consists primarily of butter, sweet cream, and partially hydrogenated margarine) also contains such unappetizing additives as maltodextrin, propylene glycol alginate, xanthan gum, calcium disodium EDTA, and potassium sorbate. (Not being able to tell what's natural and what's enhanced has always been a problem for us at Hooters.)

Dunkin' Donuts doesn't want you to know that each of its medium-size fruit-and-yogurt smoothies packs at least 60 grams of sugar--more than four times the sugar in a chocolate-frosted cake doughnut. The fruit purees used in the smoothies are mixed with liberal doses of sugar and/or high-fructose corn syrup.

Chevys Fresh Mex doesn't want you to know how its tortillas stack up nutritionally. The chain says it provides "nutritional information regarding calories, fat, protein & carbohydrates for some of our most popular items" -- the chicken, steak, and shrimp fajitas, for example -- on its Web site. But the numbers provided don't include an essential component: the tortilla.

T.G.I. Friday's doesn't want you to know how little nutritional info it provides. A Friday's PR rep told us that the chain makes the data available for only its "low-fat" dishes--those coming in under 500 calories and 10 grams of fat. There are just three such dishes on the entire Friday's menu.

Higher-ups at Maggiano's Little Italy don't want you to know just how many calories and carbs you're consuming in those massive pasta portions. (As the menu puts it, "Family-style service or individual entrees are available...Whichever you choose, you'll have plenty to share or take home.") In Italy, a standard pasta serving means 4 ounces of noodles with a few tablespoons of sauce. At Maggiano's, a large order of pasta translates into 2 pounds of noodles piled high on a hubcap-size dinner plate (15 1/2 inches in diameter). A Maggiano's PR rep responded to our request for nutritional information a week later: "Sorry for the delay I had to wait for corporate's approval. Unfortunately, they have declined to participate."