Ethan B.
Yelp
Let me start by saying I had high hopes. Black-owned, soul food, catchy name--I was ready to throw my coins and my calories into supporting this place. But baby, let me tell you: this wasn't a hot butter supper. This was a room temperature microwave struggle plate from 2009.
The moment I walked in, I knew I had messed up. The vibe was giving "you bothering us" not "welcome in." The girl at the counter looked like I interrupted her nap and her situationship at the same time. No greeting, no smile--just attitude like I personally insulted her auntie. The menu was taped to the wall like they just decided what they cook based on whatever fell out of a Sysco truck that day.
I ordered oxtails, mac and cheese, and collards. I got sadness, confusion, and a stomach ache. The oxtails were dry and gave more bone than meat--like a Flintstones chew toy. The mac and cheese? Child... it tasted like someone made it while arguing on FaceTime and forgot the cheese. And the collards? They were bitter, angry, and clearly had unresolved trauma. Not a turkey neck in sight. Just pain in a Styrofoam container.
Now let's talk about the owner. The main character in this tragic opera. Loud, rude, and clearly thinks running a restaurant is just about posting selfies in an apron. Instead of fixing the mess, they were too busy arguing with customers and gaslighting people on Instagram like they were on a bad season of Real Housewives of Pennsauken. I watched them roll their eyes at an elderly woman asking for her order--a senior citizen. Lord, forgive me for what I wanted to say out loud.
It honestly breaks my heart because I want to support Black businesses, but this is not the one. The food is bad, the vibes are worse, and the only thing seasoned in this place is the drama. This ain't entrepreneurship, it's embarrassment. A disgrace to the culture. Soul food with no soul. The ancestors did not fry chicken on cast iron skillets for this.