Bacon Bitch

"It would be easy to denounce Bacon Bitch, a South Beach party brunch restaurant where the staff greets every guest with a cheerful, “Hey, bitch!” But we judge restaurants for what they put out into the world, and by that logic, Bacon Bitch delivers on its titular promise. The first thing your server will do is call you a bitch. It’s jarring until you look up and see a warm smile across her face. Soon you'll learn that, beneath the plastic vines of the very loud patio, all of god’s creatures are bitches. Your server introduces herself as “your main bitch.” If you’re (dear god) eating with someone 12 or under, she might direct them to the “Lil’ Bitch” menu. Tell your main bitch that it’s your husband’s birthday, and she’ll come back with friends to do a tableside dance while hoisting a sign that reads, “HAPPY BDAY MR BITCH.” Make no mistake, a pulse is not necessary to be a bitch. The table’s maple syrup is labeled as “sticky bitch.” The hot sauce is “spicy bitch.” The ketchup? Simply “ketchup bitch.” The Bacon Bitches may have run out of steam on that one. Bacon Bitch isn't high-concept camp, nor is it one of those restaurants where people go to enjoy intentionally mean service. It's just a place that really likes the word bitch. Put down the ketchup bitch and look around at the cacophony of waffle-eating groups, at least one of which will be a confused table of tourists who had no idea what they were getting into. The experience is unintentionally hilarious if you can turn your brain off, and a little sickening if you can’t. Nihilism may be the quickest route to contentment at Bacon Bitch. video credit: Ryan Pfeffer video credit: Julia Malavé Bacon is a close second. 23 out of 37 dishes (and one drink) on the menu feature the stuff. Sure, the bacon strips are a little floppy, but they're not bad. The fried chicken is fine, too. Not that anyone is even tasting anything after the alcohol from the $25 frozen “drunk bitch” cocktail singes their taste buds. You’ll walk out of here smelling irresistible to dogs and with an urge to introduce yourself to strangers as “Mr. Bitch.” And so…mission accomplished? Right? We can’t say they didn’t nail the assignment. If you want to hate Bacon Bitch, go ahead. Hate it because of its founder’s alleged association with a cat murder for hire back in 2017, or because that same man calls himself a “visionary” in his Instagram bio and once said in a Hulu original documentary that he started the restaurant with the goal to “make the word bitch OK.” These are good reasons to never go within 25 yards of this establishment, and we're on your side. But don't accuse Bacon Bitch of false advertising. Food Rundown video credit: Julia Malavé Drunk Bitch It tastes like strawberry gasoline and comes garnished with the saddest lone gummy bear you’ll ever meet. We can’t put it better than the menu description, which reads, “A little bit of everything. Definitely order that Uber.” video credit: Julia Malavé Classy We finished it. video credit: Julia Malavé Fried Chicken & Waffles Get the classy instead. It has the same amount of fried chicken and these waffles are a little like complimentary Ramada Inn breakfast. photo credit: Ryan Pfeffer Bacon & Doughnuts We only got one bite in before the “Mr. Bitch” birthday incident occurred. Our brains stopped working at that exact moment (and have yet to fully recover). So it’s hard to say whether this was good. Probably not." - Ryan Pfeffer

"This cheeky restaurant located on the bottom floor of a South Beach hostel features all day breakfast sandwiches that can nurse a hangover back to health no matter the day of the week (hey, no judgment here). Opt for the one of the “main bitch” sandwiches filled with sausage, egg, and cheddar, with a side of Nutella stuffed French toast for good measure." - Eater Staff

"At Bacon Bitch, bacon takes center stage and breakfast sandwiches are always the meals du jour. Served country, American, or fancy, these handheld helpings are surefire ways to curb a hangover." - Dara Smith