Santa Claus Brewing Co. — Restaurant in Santa Claus

A Christmas Noir: The Santa Claus Brewing Company

The night draped an inky blanket over Santa Claus, Indiana, and I was looking for refreshment, maybe a decent meal—something to cut through the stale taste of the last 40.3 miles. The sign for the Santa Claus Brewing Company beckoned like a siren’s song as I walked through the wooden corridor.. Inside, the place was a fever dream, a crime scene of clashing aesthetics: a strangely decorated Christmas tree, a splash of Halloween cobwebs, and the dusty, desperate vibe of an American Legion hall after a long, lonely night. I couldn't tell if I was there for a holiday party, a wake, or a court-martial.

The air was as cold as Jack Frost’s heart. A window, thrown open to the indifferent night, funneled an icy draft right onto our table, turning our booth into a meat locker. The waitress—was a study in practiced indifference, a woman whose smile had been repossessed years ago. When we asked for water, she didn't so much as point; she simply gestured with her chin toward a tired-looking, orange Igloo cooler in the corner. "Get it yourself," she practically growled. It was a heck of a way to start a night—getting hydration from a relic that looked like it retired from a construction site in '78.

The food finally arrived after an eternity, which was long enough for me to write my memoirs. The place wasn’t busy, but I still figured I’d have to clock in and cook the thing myself. When it hit the table, the meal was… just okay. The kind of food that serves its purpose without apology, like a cheap suit. But the tater tots, they were the only star in this whole sorry picture: hot, crispy, and tasting like a small, deep-fried promise. The kind of perfect that almost makes you forget you're sitting in a psychological hazard.

When it came time to pack any leftovers, it was another self-service racket. The containers were stacked sappily upon a wire rack near the “gift shop”, if you want to call it that. We opted to keep the mediocrity in the same place it emerged, and did not take left-overs.

But the real trouble, the thing that clung to the air like cheap perfume, was in the back. Peeking out from behind that forlorn Christmas tree was a mannequin Santa. He wasn't jolly; he was creepy. His eyes, or the absence of them, held a promise of cold, silent malice. He was a silent partner in this whole operation, and I got a distinct feeling that he was cataloging my face, storing it away for a night when the world was asleep, ready to pay me a personal visit.

This place was a chilly, evergreen disaster, a one-star tragedy. The service was a bad joke, the atmosphere was a case of mistaken identity, and the air was thick with the threat of a plastic-faced Santa.

I won't be going back. The tots were hot, but the whole joint was cold—cold and covered in a chilling layer of existential dread. This restaurant...

So recently I visited this establishment and I would highly recommend going anywhere else but here unless you are a resident or a friend of one of the staff members. The menu looked COMPLETELY different than it does online. They didn’t even try with the Christmas themed decor which is insane considering they are basically right outside of Holiday World. The restaurant looks like it’s a school cafeteria with a small gift shop that looks extremely out of place. There was a massive jug of water right in the middle so yeah if you want a water not only do you need to get it yourself which I thought was fine at first but I took one sip of this not at all iced water it tasted like they had either either scooped from a pond or a puddle. Did I mention the staff yet? No. Okay let me tell you about the staff. The waitress was extremely rude from the very beginning my mother asked for a lemon in her Iced Tea and she immediately said no with such a sassy attitude. Also don’t come with kids because when I went it took 45 minutes to an hour to get appetizers not the meal APPETIZERS. I normally wouldn’t have minded a wait for food but not only did the table who came in 15 minutes after me get their food first and if we already didn’t have an already horrible experience with our waitress she slams and I do mean SLAMS the appetizers on the table as we got up to leave and then she starts arguing with me and my mother. We didn’t even eat at this place that’s how terrible the service is. Also I would like to point out that I’m not usually this harsh about a restaurant I love supporting these non chain restaurants but this restaurant honestly probably would be great if it wasn’t for the staff members who immediately started talking bad about me and my mother after we left. I honestly wish I could give this a half star because a full star seems to generous compared to how the...

Wow! This guy’s opinion? Five stars for comedy, zero for food. If I could give negative stars, I’d be digging a hole. Opened the pizza box when I got home expecting dinner, but instead got a charred disaster that smelled like someone set a tire on fire. Not even a whiff of actual pizza just pure, smoky regret.

The crust? A beautiful tribute to burnt offerings. The cheese? Cooked to the point of becoming a chewy, inedible mystery substance. My hungry kids, bless their souls, tried to gnaw around the disaster zone like it was some kind of survival challenge.

But wait it gets better. After all that, we’re supposed to tip? For what, exactly? For not providing the simple services as requested. If you mess up, apologize for the wait and fix it, don’t send this crap out the door.

Let’s not forget the $60 burger-and-fries incident. Four people. One tiny pile of fries each. Burgers that made gas station sandwiches look gourmet. Honestly, next time I’ll swing by the freezer aisle or hit up McDonald’s at least their food tastes like it’s supposed to, and doesn’t fill my house with the scent of despair.

So thanks for the unforgettable experience. And you’re welcome for the money I unknowingly donated to help you continue serving food like...