Remembering Sizzler cheese toast, the hardest loss of 2020

Fires, floods, cancelled weddings and a global pandemic - 2020 really did have it all. But there was one loss we felt harder than the others.

This year has hit us with one whopping kick in the guts after another.

Bushfires, floods, COVID-19, lockdowns, cancelled weddings, and the heartbreaking reality - for many people – of losing a loved one and, because of closed borders or restrictions on funerals, not being given the chance to say a proper goodbye.

It looked like – for a minute there at the start of November – the universe had finally gotten one thing right, with the ousting of Donald Trump as President of the United States.

But then, we were plunged into darkness once more, with the announcement that iconic buffet chain Sizzler would be shutting its doors – inciting the most excruciating loss of all time, one many (just me) are yet to properly come to terms with: the Brad Pitt of great Australian side dishes - cheese toast - is no longer.

The election of Joe Biden, it turns out, did not save 2020.

RELATED: Sizzler finally reveals iconic recipe

Farewell, my savoury prince.

Will I ever love a food this much again? Picture: Simon Bullard/AAP

Australians were first exposed to the bowling club carpets and American diner booths of Sizzler 35 years ago, when the suburban dining stalwart’s first restaurant opened in the Brisbane suburb of Annerley.

At its peak in 1993, the chain boasted 83 locations nationwide. Diners all around the country enjoyed the endless vats of Alfredo, potato skins and full control over a soft serve machine with not one but two flavours – a luxury normally afforded only to pimply-faced teenage fast food employees.

And, of course, there was the cheese toast. A holy trinity of ingredients – thick white bread, an ungodly amount of butter and (pecorino) cheese – that is simple enough to cook at home, yet impossible to truly replicate.

The border closures this year left me longing for my family, my hairdresser and my dog.

More than anything else, though, I was bursting to fly home to the Sunshine State to experience that nostalgic thrill of hitting the salad bar, that all-you-can-eat nirvana.

Where else could you squeeze cheese-coated bread, chocolate mousse, potato bake and a trilogy of bizarre salads that you’d only take one bite of (before discarding to the side and heading back for another round of carbs) and call it dinner?

Certainly not at swish restaurants such as Chin Chin, or Rockpool, or your parents’ dinner table.

But then, like with all good things in life that we’re awarded in limitless supply, we became ungrateful.

The temptation of a meal that wasn’t entirely comprised of beige elements or manhandled by a family of 12 grotty children before you elbowed them out of the way and put it on your plate became too hard to resist.

Sizzlers across Australia began to shut – until just eight remained: four in my native Queensland, three in Western Australia, and one near Campbelltown, on the fringes of Sydney.

And then COVID-19 swept in and sh*t all over it before I had the chance to pile my plate with potato skins (in hindsight, overcooked to the point of criminal), fettuccine and Alfredo sauce and ask for a second, then third, helping of cheese toast one last time.

“Sizzler revenues and earnings have been slow to recover from peak COVID-19 impacts,” Collins Foods, Sizzler’s parent company, announced on October 2.

“This has been a difficult decision for Collins Foods, especially given the impact it will have on our dedicated Sizzler employees and customers in Australia,” Collins Foods’ CEO Drew O’Malley said.

“The ongoing impact of COVID-19 on revenues has meant that unfortunately these restaurants have not established a clear path to profitability in the foreseeable future.”

Those last eight restaurants took their final bow on November 16 packed with diehard fans, itching to overeat to an astonishing degree and pester the staff for multiple plates of that beloved complimentary entree one last time.

Let us hope and pray that in a decade from now, Clive Palmer channels his energy into reviving the chain to its former glory.

But until then, vale cheesy toast, my savoury prince. I think I’ll miss you most of all.