Here is the original LTH Bunny Hutch thread:
Original LTH Bunny Hutch ThreadIt makes reference to a classic thread from the Chowhound days, available at
Chowhound Bunny Hutch ThreadHarry V.'s post is as follows
Harry V. Aug 26, 2002 12:33 PM This place is called the Bunny Hutch. For reasons unknown, we stopped there a couple of weeks ago. They served the worst hot dog in my life. I'm talking about the sausage itself, which tasted exactly and solely like tepid water, in which it had presumably been sitting for countless hours. Despite the sogginess of the dog itself, the bun was paradoxically sere as the desert. When the bun offers more to the tooth than the sausage, you know you're in trouble. Service was amateurish and achingly slow. A high-school age girl and a grizzled gentleman in his 50s were the staff on hand when we visited, and there was a grand total of one other customer in the premises, another girl of high-school age. She had ordered a milkshake type of thing with other things mixed in, and it took the girl behind the counter at least five full minutes to create the milkshake. It was obvious that there was no place on Earth she less wanted to be (I agreed with her), and nothing on Earth she wanted less to be doing. At long last, the milkshake was brought into being, and the counter girl finally shifted her reluctant attention to the only other customer in the place. She took my order for one hot dog and silently passed it over to the Ernest Borgnine-esque counterman, who had previously been devoting himself entirely to ogling the previous customer and attempting to engage her with his sub-verbal, google-eyed flirtations. And he in fact continued with this pursuit for some time after being notified of my order, which he did not take under consideration until after the previous customer went out the door. The gentleman then proceeded to ignore the written order he had been given, and instead directly asked me what I wanted - as if I had just walked in the door that very moment, as opposed to ten minutes previously. Fans of the spartan Gene and Jude school of Dim Fluorescent Ambience will appreciate the Bunny Hutch's interior, but no one else will, I don't expect. The interior of the food area is ridiculously large, anticipating crowds that may have come once, a long time ago, but which are certain never to be seen again within those four walls. The Bunny Hutch assuredly makes most of its money off of the miniature golf course and batting cages with which its is associated, and clearly does not care at all about serving good food.
But perhaps after 11 years, there is a new GNR-worthy Bunny Hutch, but it is now an outpost of the Red Hot Ranch. And so a little bit of Old Chicago has bitten the dust, of which perhaps there was plenty at the old Bunny Hutch.
I would be happy to go to Bunny Hutch, which for many years was closed.
Toast, as every breakfaster knows, isn't really about the quality of the bread or how it's sliced or even the toaster. For man cannot live by toast alone. It's all about the butter. -- Adam Gopnik