Edward S.
Google
Update from eat-in on 12/29/25. Next review: Q1 2027.
Who doesn’t love the Burrell Inn? I mean the memory of it.
Because if a bar could get dementia, the Burrell Inn is deep into Stage 7 Alzheimer's.
We gave it one more try in late December 2025. Another big letdown.
Imagine buying a Primanti Bros franchise and pulling the signature sandwich because you personally don’t like coleslaw and fries on bread. That’s the level of decision-making here. In the Burrell Inn’s case: Who looks at a beloved, half-century-old chicken wing recipe and says, “Yeah, let’s fix that”?
From Local Legend to Slow-Motion Self-Sabotage
For over 50 years—under different owners and even a different name (Welcome Inn)—this place was a cult classic.
The wings were iconic: paprika, season salt, garlic. Thomas (later branded Ciciarelli) family salad dressing. Hot pepper cheese balls. Doors open at 10 AM, packed with regulars by noon.
It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t polished. But it was ALIVE!
Now? It feels like walking through the ghost of a good memory while someone quietly dismantles it with a butter knife.
The Wings: A 50-Year Masterpiece, “Improved” into Oblivion
The wings were the cornerstone—the one non-negotiable reason people came here. Paprika-rich, unmistakable, “paprika hands” a badge of honor you wore home. People planned nights around these wings. The kind of recipe you only change if you’ve recently taken a blow to the head.
And yet… they changed it.
That’s the headline. That’s the obituary. Out of everything they could have updated or reimagined, they went straight for the one thing that wasn’t broken.
Again, for the people in the back:
WHO IN THE HELL LOOKS AT A BELOVED HALF-CENTURY-OLD RECIPE AND THINKS, “YEAH, LET’S FIX THAT”?
Smoke-Free… and Five Years Too Late
They finally banned indoor smoking. The problem? They fixed it after the funeral. Congratulations: you put out the fire after the house burned down. The customers found safe haven elsewhere and haven’t come back.
You know what they didn’t wait five years to mess with? The wings.
Hours That Match the Energy
This used to be a 10 AM bar buzzing by noon. Now they don’t unlock the doors until 4 PM.
That’s not “adjusted hours.” That’s a surrender flag.
You don’t cut your hours, shrink your portions, neglect the atmosphere, and tamper with the crown jewel unless you fundamentally don’t understand why people came here.
Ownership: Nice Guy, Wrong Captain
By all accounts, the owner is a nice guy. That’s not sarcasm—that’s what everyone says.
But this is not a “nice guy” business. This is a “know what the hell you’re doing” business.
Changing an iconic 50-year recipe while ignoring the decaying atmosphere, dwindling hours, and uneven service isn’t vision—it’s burnout dressed up as confidence.
The Tragedy
A bar like this survives on one thing other places can’t copy. They had that. It was the wings. They changed it.
The saddest part isn’t that it changed; everything changes. The tragedy is how it changed. What was once a beloved institution is now a cautionary tale in how to squander legacy, loyalty, and identity.
Addendum (12/2025): Dozen wings and chicken salads. $50. Horrendous. Wings still the fake recipe—soggy, bland. Threw most away. Salads: iceberg lettuce, barely a chicken breast worth, minced cheese, soggy fries, half a hard-boiled egg. Not like it used to be.
If you’re going for nostalgia, prepare to be disappointed. The Burrell Inn isn’t just past its prime; it’s actively burning through whatever goodwill it has left.
And at the center of it all is the same, stupid, avoidable decision:
WHO IN THE HELL LOOKS AT A BELOVED HALF-CENTURY-OLD RECIPE AND THINKS, “YEAH, LET’S FIX THAT”?
That said, here’s the maddening part: this is fixable.
Bring back the real wings.
Restore the hours to match the identity.
Actually invest in the atmosphere instead of coasting on the name.
Do that, and the Burrell Inn could stop being a slow-motion obituary and start being what it once was: the place.
Until then, it’s just a memory with a liquor license.
