With four and a half stars on Yelp and a line out the door you’d think this place was the shit. Well, it’s definitely shit alright. The absolute epitome of what you might expect in the sticks of Indianapolis.
First, let’s start with the Sistine Chapel meets Magritte ceiling art. Yes, fluffy white clouds against a blue sky arch upward into the acoustic tile above, almost like skylights, but so poorly done you almost feel sorry for the paint brush that had to create them.
Feeling sorry was the theme in general here. For the patrons around me. For my co-workers. For myself and my stomach. In fact, the only person I didn’t feel bad for was our server, she was quick and full of spunk- it’s amazing the impression a server can leave when they like their job.
Unfortunately, the impression wasn’t enough to salvage the Cinnamon French tragedy on my plate. Too dry, not soaked through and the fruit on top was GMO city. Topped with a syrup that saw more corn fields than maple trees in its former life. Which brings me back to the 4.5 stars… Sure. Out of 100 maybe.