London Grill, Fairmount
Gee, we had a lovely time at brunch but it was not good, not good at all. Not even OK really.
The drinks were good, we had a mojito and a something blossom - the lavendar infusion was a bit heavy handed on the blossom drink but it was wonderful and not at all sweet - and that mojito was perfect, just slightly sweetened not sticky and gross.
But the food was terrible. We had eggs benedict and huevos rancheros and both were quite like something you find in a diner. Also the service was odd and exceedingly slow.
I feel a little bit badly giving a negative review but there is so little to say. It seems like a fantastic place to go and drink on the weekend, great beer list - but I would not rush there for the brunch.
I recall posting similarly a while ago when my Canadian friends came down to see the Andrew Wyeth exhibit. Runny eggs Benedict on inedible stale toasted bagels with yucky Hollandaise. Potatoes were cold. Everything was poorly plated, Nice waitress was genuinely sorry about the lack of attention from Executive "chef" brought us a complimentary dessert. But that was the end of my London Grill days. What an embarrassment!
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My daughter took me to brunch there for Mother's Day a couple of years ago. Service was very slow then, too. I think they were understaffed.
There was an eggshell the size of a quarter in my Eggs Benedict. When we pointed it out to management, there wasn't even an apology.
We will not darken their door again. In the '70s, I liked the place.
We live across the street from London Grill. Tried it when we moved in about 15 years ago. It was poor. Tried it again about 5 years later, still bad. Heard they had a new chef about a year ago. It was ok not great. Since heard they lost the chef. Time for them to become something else.
My wife and I took her parents to London Grill this morning for brunch, and the four of us left there feeling completely disappointed with both the food and service. The french toast with "cranberry sauce" and housemade sausage, as recommended by the waitress, was unappetizing to say the least, with a smear of Welch's jam beside a soggy piece of french toast. My mother's quiche and father's eggs benedict were equally inadequate. After that experience, we vowed to walk the twenty yards to Rembrandt's if we ever felt like having breakfast in Fairmount again.