But I cannot say I felt like a winner having paid to eat those sorry fries along with the disheartening array of other American comfort foods on this big menu that were mistreated here with seemingly equal disregard for the principles of good cooking. We chose pork pierogis from an entire section of pierogi variations deliberately crafted for the Philly audience (among a few menu items exclusive to King of Prussia, along with those colonial blue plates). They were pasty inside and wrapped in a dough so oddly tough it was like biting through an oily little wallet. The shiny cauliflower-parsnip hummus was so slippery it refused to be scooped up by the overly cheesy bread sticks. The cracker-fried shrimp were hard as rubber. The "Chesapeake-style" crab cakes were pitifully puny discs of overcooked, bready splotches on my plate. For $30, the Chesapeake would like its name back.