Bon Appetit

This place is OUTSTANDING, particularly for breakfast. Don’t ignore their specials, typically always unique and awesome. Their waffles and pancakes are great — fluffy and flavorful, even without the syrup. Highly recommended! Don’t let their location fool you!

I wanted to like this place. I really wanted to, desperately.
I believed the shining red stars given by the previous reviewers, even though, in this neck of the woods, the culinary bar is not always the highest.
Two thumbs up to the waitress. She was excellent, and patient as we poured over the extensive menu, when the order came and she mixed up which of us got which mea, she was apologetic, even though it was no big deal. She said excuse me when she reached over to clear the table. First waitperson ever to do such a thing in any establishment I’ve eaten in YEARS from high class to diner. She was great.
If only the story could end right there.
The stars fall off IMHO quicker than the pine needles on a dried up christmas tree.
The first star shot down when the food arrived lukewarm at best.
And it was not a complicated menu.
Pancakes
Small Grits bowl (more on that later)
waffle
Eggs.
All barely warm as your wrist (go ahead, put your finger on your wrist… right now. see… lukewarm).
I had to stuff the fluffy eggs down my throat with the speed of a starving animal to make sure they were eaten before they became stone cold.
The grits came with a cap of hard orange cheese on top. They may be photogenic, but when you can take a metal fork and tap tap tap and hear the sound, well… I’ll just stop there.
I dug down to rescue a spoonful of what are their signature grits… and the solid cap of cheese did not move.
The mystery… How did the crust which was cold sit on top of the warmer grits? A miracle!
I wish i had left my investigation and discovery right there… but I stuck the spoon full of buried grits in my mouth. and pulled the spoon out as though I had been burnt! (of course not).
Why? The grits had an overwhelming taste of chlorine. Yes. Chlorine. Swimming pool. Bleach smelling tasting chlorine.
No. no no no no NO! Why? Why? Why? Southern people should be able to at least do this one thing right. GRITS people. Dang!
Biscuits just ok. Pale, anemic… brushed with something that vaguely smelled of butter, but right then, I was beginning to doubt everything.
Except the eggs. Nice, fluffy. But hey, it is hard to screw up an egg.
Sooooo… while taking a look around… there is the restaurant rating against the wall on the back of the bar.
92% cleanliness rating, The inspector must have been generous that day or missed the filth on the side of the alarm or temperature beside the door, tells you they don’t clean up much.
I just imagined the chef at the end of the day, exhausted, greasy paws rubbed along the plastic box on the way out of the door… turning the dials, said grease a magnet for dust and grime, marking years of… well…again…you get the picture.
Clientele seems to all wear camo, ammo, or serious ass-​kickin’ casual wear. I feel that Sarah Palin and Ted Cruz would come here on a campaign stump and find a robust audience. And that’s ok, I just wish the food lived up to the waitstaff. And then’ they’d be cooking.
The two star rating is given for the stellar waitress. Not the meal.