Pour one out for the cheese toast kings.

I had no idea that the pandemic had killed off Sizzler, at least in Australia, but apparently the last slab of cheese toast will get plated up at the nine surviving restaurants today. After that, you're on your own.

I can't remember the last time I went into a Sizzler, but I think it might have been some time in the early 1990s. It might have been with some flatmates. We might have pushed the legal limits of the phrase all-you-can-eat.

I do sort of wonder how the chain survived so long. Who the hell wants to pay nearly thirty bucks for all of the coleslaw and carrot and sultana salad you can eat? I guess the closest thing remaining to the Sizzler experience would be something like a hotel buffet or maybe the all-you-can-eat deal at a casino. Or maybe the feeding troughs at the Qantas Club, when it reopens.

Michelle Law has a really lovely memorial to the joint over at the Grauniad.

My family largely ignored the Sizzler menu. We were there for the buffet alone (we are Asian, need I say more), for which we always had a game plan: start with the pumpkin soup and spaghetti bolognese, move on to the potato skins and salads, before a brief adjournment to the restrooms to clear out the digestive tract for dessert.

So long, Sizzler – your all-you-can-eat cheese toast made me so happy

My greatest Sizzler joy was creating a monstrous sundae overflowing with sprinkles, smarties, wafers and mini marshmallows. Afterwards, my siblings and I would collaborate on what I like to call a “kid’s king cup”, which involved mixing any leftover food and drink into a goopy mess and thrusting it into each other’s faces, before one or several of us would pass out in a booth while playing Game Boy. It was a magical time to be alive.

I don't suppose Sizzler will be missed much, but I do have vaguely fond memories of that cheese toast.