"THANK YOU for calling Rainforest Cafe, a Wild Place to Shop and Eat®!" I called the cafe Thursday morning at 10 -- and had to make a reservation for lunch! This place is popular! Over the past five years, this burgeoning chain has reached Planet Hollywood proportions, boasting 34 outlets worldwide. Its Disneyland-like atmosphere is an instant hit: Customers are immersed in a meticulously rendered fantasy environment, and vague educational overtones make it a perfect place to bring the kids -- if you don't mind exposing them to a cynical charade engineered by soulless capitalists.

The lush, rumbling, chirping, dimly lit Rainforest Cafe jungle swarms with cute teenagers in khaki game-warden shirts. Our gracious Safari Guide, Dionne, ushered us to the best seat in the house, right in front of the twitching, blinking gorilla family. They screamed, shook the palm trees, and thumped their chests in warning.

The large menu includes fancy drinks (like the "Waborita," made with Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo tequila!), appetizers, pastas, entrées, sandwiches, and salads. And as Tracy the Talking Tree (one of the Rainforest Cafe's whimsical animatronic characters) says, "Everyone loves animals!" -- down to the last bite! Visitors to the Rainforest can chow down on a veritable barnyard, but thankfully, three potentially vegan-friendly entrées were offered, including the portabello mushroom-based Plant Sandwich ($8.99) and the Wallaby's Wok ($8.99), which involves linguini, sun-dried tomatoes, and pine nuts (with parmesan).

I started with the Garden Patch Salad ($3.99), a small plateful of spring mix topped with half a chopped roma tomato and a viscous, unsophisticated balsamic vinaigrette. My luncheon companion, Mr. Humphrey, braved the Jungle Safari Soup ($2.99), an institutional minestrone with sausage, which he said "tastes like chili." We were well into our appetizers when the first thunderstorm hit. The air grew cool and misty and the fog machines went into action, as lights flashed above the greenery, thunder rumbled, and the robot gorillas stirred.

Unruffled, Dionne briskly delivered our entrées. My Natural Burger ($8.99), a "combination of brown rice, grains, and vegetables," was heavy and nutty, and arrived on nine-grain bread buttered and grilled within an inch of its life. Mr. Humphrey ordered the Paradise Pot Roast ($11.99), but found not a respectable hunk of cow in sight: Meager shards of tender beef and an occasional carrot floated in brown gravy, while the accompanying mashed potatoes exhibited some of the elastic properties common to the instant variety.

For dessert my choice was simple -- nothing, as Rainforest offers no vegan desserts -- but Mr. Humphrey faced a formidable challenge. Should he "go bananas" with the Gorillas in the Mist Banana Cheesecake or "go ape" with the Monkey Business Coconut Bread Pudding ($4.99 each)? Not surprisingly, he went "ape" -- and found the bread pudding had been left under the heat lamps for too long (no wonder Dionne offered to top it with whipped cream).

It's important to understand that the Rainforest Cafe experience doesn't begin or end with food. As you approach the restaurant, a gigantic animatronic crocodile lounges front and center, attracting attention to a wishing well full of pennies earmarked for the Rainforest Action Network (it's a CHARITY!). Nearby, Wildlife Specialists handle colorful tropical birds (it's EDUCATIONAL!), pulling suckers in from the midway. And no one -- certainly no one with kids -- gets into, out of, or past the Rainforest Cafe without paying the toll at the Retail Village. There the restaurant logo and a cast of chipper and colorful animal characters emblazon coffee mugs and a selection of wearable advertising, from T-shirts to boxer shorts. An exhaustive collection of rainforest-themed toys tempt wee nature-lovers, and for the ladies, aromatherapy: Amazon Passion bodywash! Surely all this will become landfill fodder in a matter of weeks.

In the midst of this consumerist feeding frenzy, apparently it's perfectly safe to give lip service to environmentalist propaganda. As shoppers browse (and diners chow down on meat, the very symbol of rainforest destruction), Tracy the Talking Tree holds forth in dulcet tones: "It's so important to reduce, reuse, and recycle!" But doesn't "reduce" mean "don't buy so much crap"? Maybe once upon a time, but here in the Retail Village it means "blah blah blah"! It's an environmentalist's worst nightmare -- and a wickedly ingenious marketing tool.

Rainforest Cafe is upscale mall food with a message... and the message is: To hell with the rainforest!

Rainforest Cafe Southcenter Mall, 248-8882

Cafe: Mon-Thurs 11 am-10 pm, Fri 11 am-11 pm, Sat 10:30 am-11 pm, Sun 11 am-9 pm. Reservations recommended. Retail Village: Mon-Thurs 10 am-10 pm, Fri & Sat 10 am-11 pm, Sun 11 am-9 pm.