Jessy
Google
If you’re looking for atmosphere, 220 Merrill delivers in spades. This is Birmingham’s elite scene—exotic cars lined up out front, designer outfits, and a dining room that oozes upscale glamor. It’s the perfect backdrop for a date night, people-watching, or impressing out-of-town guests visually. But if you’re going for the food, manage your expectations—or better yet, manage your reservation elsewhere.
Let’s start with the vibe: top-tier. The crowd is vibrant. The ambiance is high-end. It’s the type of place where you’ll see half the dealership showroom parked out front on any given night. That part’s unbeatable.
Unfortunately, once the menu hits the table, things start falling apart—fast.
We dropped $240 for two people, and walked away more annoyed than full. I ordered a New York strip, medium well. What came out was an overcooked, dry well-done cut with absolutely no seasoning. The kind of steak that makes you genuinely confused: how do you mess this up? The NY strip is one of the most forgiving cuts—its marbling is supposed to melt into the meat, infusing it with flavor. But this steak? It was a tough, bland piece of leather. I left it on the plate. Paid for it and left it. That’s how bad it was. I have the receipt to prove it.
My wife ordered the short rib orzo, and to be fair—that dish was phenomenal. Rich, tender, perfectly cooked. It’s clear someone in the kitchen knows what they’re doing… sometimes. And for dessert, the tres leches cake? Without exaggeration, the best I’ve had in all 48 states I’ve lived and worked in. Light, balanced, with a perfect sponge. Easily the highlight of the night.
The drinks were solid too. Well-mixed cocktails and a good selection. But if you’re a purist, like me, you’ll notice the old fashioned came with cube ice instead of a large clear rock. That’s a small but telling detail—like ordering a Ferrari and getting cloth seats.
Now let’s talk about service and safety. The reservations system is chaotic at best, and good luck getting a seat without one—it’s always packed. But what’s inexcusable is being served a cracked glass that literally cut my lip. Yep—asked for water, took a sip, and felt the sharp edge slice my mouth. That alone should’ve warranted a comp or at least a real apology. Instead, we paid top dollar for the injury and were sent on our way.
Summary:
• Ambience: 10/10
• Drinks: 8/10
• Food: 4/10
• Steak: 1/10
• Dessert: 10/10
• Service Safety: 0/10
Would I go back? Maybe—for the tres leches, a drink, and the car scene. But if I’m craving a good steak, I’d rather take my chances at LongHorn or even Texas Roadhouse, where at least I know the kitchen seasons the meat.
Final Verdict: Go for the scene, not the steak. And if you’re spending $240, you deserve a lot more than fancy lighting and a slice to the lip.
