Eggstasy — Restaurant in Phoenix

My dad and I have been loyal customers at Eggstacy in Norterra for about a year now. We used to eat there weekly, and even when our visits shifted to every other week, we continued to rave about the place to friends and family. The food was always fresh, hot, and clearly made with care—or so we thought. Unfortunately, our last three visits have been nothing short of baffling and disappointing. Each time, I’ve found hair in my food.

Today was supposed to be the “last chance” visit. We honestly thought there was no way it could happen again—but it did.

Friday, July 11th We arrived around 9 a.m. and sat at the bar. I ordered the crepes, and as I was buttering them, I found a hair in the bottom of my butter dish. We told our server/bartender, and they remade the food. We paid our bill in full and left.

Friday, July 18th Again, we arrived around 9 a.m., and I decided to give the crepes another try. Everything looked fine at first, but halfway through, I found two dark hairs folded into my crepes—one resembling an eyelash and the other a short strand. We told our server, who brought over the manager (a woman with many tattoos, I forgot her name). She explained that some food preparation had been outsourced recently, which might explain it. My dad mentioned our prior experience with hair in my butter, and asked whether the cooks wore hairnets. She said no—they wear hats. She comped our meal and offered to remake my crepes, which I took home but ultimately didn’t eat.

Saturday, August 9th This morning my dad asked if we should give our favorite spot one last try. I agreed, thinking, What are the chances it could happen a third time? We arrived just after 8 a.m. I ordered the Incredible Omelette and checked it over before eating. After a few bites of my hash browns, I rotated my plate to cut into the omelette—and there it was: another hair, tucked underneath. I was stunned.

We showed our server, explained our history, and she spoke with the GM, who comped the meal and offered to remake it. I accepted and took it to go, but no one came over to speak with us this time. According to our server, she hasn’t had anyone complain about hair in food in over a year. Yet somehow, it’s happened to us three visits in a row.

Finding a stranger’s hair in your food instantly kills your appetite. We won’t be going back, which is disappointing given how much we used to love this place. The fact that we gave them three chances is more patience than most people would have shown.

Attached are the photos from each visit with the corresponding dates. I did not get a picture of the hair in my butter, the first instance, however. Each hair was dark and I am a light brown/dark blonde woman. It is absolutely not my hair as I've pulled my hair back each time before eating.

Jokingly I told my dad that I need to buy a Powerball ticket. Clearly the odds are currently...

I will start with saying I’ve been to this location at least 10 times now. Love sitting on the patio and have sat at the bar prior times also. Today was the 1st time I’ve received very poor service. I sat at the bar waiting for my daughter to arrive and join me. I was handed a glass of water and menu. Then as I sat for upwards of what felt like 30mins I was never asked if they could get me a drink. I had to ask one of the staff to please place an order for 2 Carmel Macchiatos iced. The older biker waiter behind the bar that I asked seemed irritated but took the order. His gal helper behind the bar serves me 2 hot drinks not cold so I had to send them back. As I continue to watch the waiter he is working on making drinks for a slew of incoming customers and other tables that just arrived. After waiting 15 mins after my daughter arrived he came back over and took our order. Food was delivered by kitchen staff. I continued to watch him wait on other customers at the bar wiping down counters, providing to go containers, remove empty plates and even carrying friendly conversation but not once did he come back to ask how we were. We had to again ask for to go containers. That’s usually a sign that folks are ready for their bill. Our dirty plates sat stacked on edge of counter and he glanced our way a few times but again never acknowledged. We then again had to ask for our bill. The poor girl that was husseling and doing her job came over and asked what we had. I said “he took our order so he should know” to which we ended up having to tell her so she could find our bill. I use to be a waitress and know how they make their money and always tip well. Today it was all I could do to sit and wait to just pay the bill as honestly I wanted to get up and walk out. I paid but left no tip and a small note on the poor service on the back of the bill receipt. I don’t know if I will return but if I do I know what wait staff to avoid and will decline them waiting on me ever again. Overall very crappy service this...

Eggstasy truly lives up to its name, offering a symphony of breakfast delights that tantalize the palate. Our culinary journey began with succulent ham, its rich flavors a perfect prelude to the tender, fluffy pancakes that followed. The hash browns were a crispy masterpiece, golden and seasoned to perfection, while the eggs—oh, the eggs!—were a testament to the art of breakfast cuisine.

The crepes, ethereal and light, seemed to melt away with each bite, filled with an array of delectable ingredients that whispered sweet nothings to our taste buds. The Power Bowl was a revelation, a hearty yet healthful dish that fueled our morning with gusto. Even the simple two egg meal, which I had the pleasure of sharing with my mother, was a portion so generous that it left us with a trove of leftovers.

Amidst the feast, the powerhouse oatmeal stood out, its heartiness matched only by its subtle, comforting flavors—a dish really, really good in its honest simplicity. The impeccable service was the ribbon on this gourmet gift; our server was the epitome of attentiveness, ensuring our coffee cups were never empty, though the coffee itself yearned for a milder touch, its bitter notes the only hiccup in an otherwise flawless experience.

Alas, the ambiance was marred slightly by the boisterous soundtrack of the morning. The music, vibrant yet overpowering, danced around the 80-decibel mark, eclipsing the possibility of easy conversation. Despite this, the overall experience at Eggstasy was one of pure gastronomic joy—a place where each dish is a vivid brushstroke on the canvas of...