Disappointed...
I so wanted to love Briars Inn. A country setting that delivers charm and promises delight. My husband and I, seasoned ex-hospitality, approached this restaurant with open hearts and expectations tempered by our forgiving natures.
The decor is a triumph - a warmth that wraps you like a cashmere throw. The location is a gem, beckoning you to huddle around the fireplace. But the rest of the evening unraveled like a poorly knitted scarf.
The service was a chaotic ballet, a whirlwind of wait staff darting about with no discernible purpose, as if caught in a culinary game of musical chairs. The bar staff, bless them, seemed more interested with gossiping at the maitre dâ station than tending to their duties, while two floor managersâclad in puffer jackets stood idly by, hands in pockets as if guarding against an imaginary chill. It was a scene of disarray that one could only watch, bemused, as the rhythm of the restaurant faltered.
Our fellow diners suffered their own indignities, with plates arriving in a haphazard parade, leaving some to twiddle their thumbs while others stared longingly at their cooling meals.
My own order, a $59 eye fillet requested medium-rare, arrived in a state that could only be described as a tragedy. The exterior was charred to a shriveled crisp, a blackened shell that hid a raw, almost pulsing center. It was as if the kitchen had waged a vendetta against the poor cut. The accompanying mushroom sauce was a watery disappointment, thin and utterly devoid of mushroom. The peas were a scant afterthought, and the mashed potatoâoh, the mashâwas so disproportionately generous it seemed to mock the meager portions of everything else. For such a price, one expects a plate that sings abundance, not one that whispers scarcity.
Dessert, a shared tiramisu, promised hope but delivered only despair. What arrived was a sodden cream sponge, smothered in cocoa powder so aggressively it might have been mistaken for a sandstorm. One bite in and we both identified that the one ingredient that makes a Tiramisu - the coffee - was utterly absent, no whisper of espresso, no hint of that bittersweet magic. It was a dessert that forgot its own identity, leaving us bereft. We sent it back to the kitchen in the hands of a waitress who appeared offended at the suggestion that this was NOT a tiramisu.
Management (in puffer vests) were just as indifferent after we briefly explained our disappointment. No apology, no offers of redemption, no cares given.
By the time we paid our near-$200 bill for the evening, my husband and I exchanged glances that spoke volumes: we have found more satisfaction, and certainly better value, at a humble Subway counter.
It pains me to say it, but Briars Inn, for all its aesthetic allure, left us hungry for the care and craft we so craved. A location this lovely deserves a kitchen and service to matchâhereâs hoping they find their way.
Please...
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