I had such high hopes for brunch at Edgar, which opened in the Mayflower Hotel half a year or so ago. For starters, the grand opening was phenomenal. Thrown by the hip-and-fashionable Aba and her team at the Aba Agency, the party was done to the nines—you were greeted by leggy models in black-and-white ensembles and top hats, had your photo snapped on the step-and-repeat, then enjoyed killer cocktails and appetizers with the city’s stylish and successful set. Yes, the grand opening set the bar high for, and began the buzz around, Edgar.
Co-Bitch Becca loves Edgar’s cocktails, and it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump from her office, so it quickly became her go-to happy hour spot. Thus, when I threw her a surprise 30th birthday party last month, I knew exactly where to host it. The staff at Edgar was wonderful, and they were there with me every step of the way to ensure her surprise birthday went off without a hitch. It was a truly lovely, memorable, evening.
As such, when I needed a spot to have brunch with Lacey, the namesake of a DC-based popular fashion blog A Lacey Perspective, I selected Edgar as I was confident it would be chic and fabulous.
A Lacey Perspective got its start about three years ago, and I love checking out Lacey’s looks on her blog, Pinterest, and Instagram. Her style is similar to mine: bright colors, print mixing, lots of jewelry and accessories, big sunglasses, stripes, florals, and the combination of high-and-low price points.
When I arrived, Lacey was already seated in a pink midi skirt, a light blue linen camp shirt, and nude strappy sandals. Her arm was loaded with an assortment of gold bangles—we both have a tendency rock a good arm party. Perched next to her was her tan 3.1 Phillip Lim Pashli handbag, which I have been lusting after for the better part of a year.
You can check out her style daily over on A Lacey Perspective. I can vouch that she’s a lovely brunch date. Although, unfortunately, Edgar’s brunch was less so. Here are our thoughts.
Let’s begin with the ambiance. While Edgar is sleek and glamorous by night, it’s dark, cavernous, and imposing by day. More importantly, it was fairly vacant, which exacerbated the feeling you were in a wood-and-steel cave.
Now, let’s get to the service, which was both terrible and daft. Lacey said the hostess was oblivious to the point of rudeness, so her experience began on a negative note. Then, we sat there for a good 12 or so minutes before our waiter arrived to take our drink order—we didn’t even have water yet. Our server was foreign, and a bit nervous, both of which are fine. The issue was not his lack of understanding of the English language but rather his lack of understanding of how to wait tables. Someone should have trained him—before or after hiring him.
There were enormous absences when we were waiting for water, coffee, our order to be taken, or the check. When he was there, he was rushed and nervous. For instance, I said “We’d like the fruit plate to start” and he grabbed my menu and Lacey’s out of our hands instantly. “No I mean, we’d like it to begin with, please.” Then, later, when he finally brought us the check, Lacey put down her card, and he snatched the check tray off the table before I had even dug my Visa out of my handbag. I was repeatedly startled by his nervousness, and I wasn’t even hungover.
Now, to the food. The coffee was fine, though at this establishment I would expect to have a French press, at that seems to be the norm at these upscale hotels nowadays. We were given a “shot” of some orange juice mango concoction that the waiter didn’t really explain. The shot tasted a lot like V8, albeit a less processed, fresher rendition.
We ordered the fruit plate to share. The fruit was fresh, and included strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, pineapple, cantaloupe, and—wait for it—honeydew. You know how the Bitches hate honeydew. Aside from that, it was fine, but I’ve had a more impressive fruit plate at the same price point. And, if I had ordered it as an entree I would have been sorely disappointed.
As for our actual entrees, Lacey selected the Bourbon French toast, served with berries. She said it was “just OK” and found there was no hint of Bourbon to be tasted.
Now, for my sad little pancakes. They came served on a plate alone, with nothing, not even a smattering of blueberries, or whipped cream, or anything. Just solo. They were good, but were nothing memorable. And if you’re going to slack on the plating, thus requiring the pancakes to speak for themselves, they better be the best damn pancakes in town. Given the choice between staying home and making myself pancakes or eating those at Edgar, I’d stay home. This says something as I not only hate doing dishes but I also can’t cook.
The syrup, and jellies, were served in those cute little individual glass jars. So, that’s fun—anything mini naturally makes it chic, duh. But aren’t they kind of wasteful, from a sustainability perspective? The over-under on the mini-jars is thus a draw.
The Bitch (and Lacey) say: D+. It breaks my heart to say it, it really does.
Edgar Bar & Kitchen
1127 Connecticut Ave. N.W.
The Mayflower Renaissance Hotel