We had a mixed experience with Philadelphia. We had never wanted to visit Philly, but had also been curious about the burgeoning food scene after hearing people speak so highly of the city. So, we decided to make a Bitch weekend of it.
Both Becca and I love exploring new cities, learning about the culture and the history—whether it’s Europe, South America, or the United States.
We’d both arrived weary—ill and exhausted. There were highs and lows on the weekend. We loved out hotel. The weather was beautiful. Some meals were great. Others were alright. Some parts of town were charming. Others were rundown.
I’d gone for a run, with the explicit purpose of running up the Rocky steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art while my Nike+ app played “Eye of the Tiger.” My mission was thwarted by thousands of families participating in a charity 5k.
I had called Supper, where we had made brunch reservations, to push back our 11:30 to 12:30 to give Becca time to work and me time to see the Philly Museum of Art. The hostess said that was impossible, but that it was alright if we were a bit late for our existing reservation.
I was slinging my weekender bag over my shoulder when my cell rang at 11:33. It was a different hostess, rudely inquiring where we were for our 11:30 reservation. “We’re on our way,” I said. “The other hostess had said it was alright if we were a bit late since we couldn’t change the reservation.”
“You lose your reservation if you’re not here within 15 minutes,” she retorted. Wow, what a peach.
“We’re on our way. Moving as quickly as we can! Thanks so much!” I said in a overtly cheerful tone and hit “end call.”
When we arrived, the restaurant was three quarters vacant yet several people were waiting, per the dictation of the aforementioned hostess. It seemed regardless of whether you were tardy or prompt, elderly or spry, with stroller or without, you must be shoved into the small waiting area and await your orders. It was a kerfuffle.
We checked in and asked to be seated outside, to which she said no, as the outside tables are reserved for walk-ins. “OK,” I said. The whole customer-comes-first bit in service is entirely lost on this woman.
“Then can we cancel our reservation and walk in?” I said.
“No,” she said, as she ushered us into a table in the middle of the restaurant with all our luggage in tow.
Becca was elbowed about 25 times during this brunch as a result of our seating arrangements.
Unlike the hostess, who for all intents and purposes was a monster, our waiter was quite lovely. He was attentive, kind, and positive. We ordered Bloody Marys and mimosas, both of which were great.
We began with the bread plate and the Bacon Babka. We didn’t know what a Babka was but the description said “carbs, syrup, bacon” and we said “yes.” The Babka was like a glorious French toast, with Russian coffee cake, a jumbled bundle of sweet bread layered with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Atop it was a pile of with about 25 pieces of bacon. This was basically the best thing ever.
Our second starter was the bread plate, with chocolate bread, banana chocolate chip bread and corn muffins, which were lackluster. The chocolate bread was delightful, and the plate came with three house-made spreads: an orange raspberry spread, a Pimiento cheese spread, and a strawberry jam.
After eyeing the awesome cereal bar the restaurant offers, Becca selected the Franklin Benny, a Philadelphia, Ben Franklin-inspired Benedict. It sounded delectable: pretzel bread, a mustard Hollandaise, and speck, rather than ham. But unfortunately it failed to deliver. The pretzel bread was over toasted and so super hard to break apart and very dry. There wasn’t nearly enough sauce on this Benny.
I chose the short rib meatloaf, served with eggs as you like them (scrambled) and breakfast potatoes. The potatoes and eggs were good, above average, and the short rib meatloaf was yummy.
The ambiance at Supper was alright—for such a buzzed about restaurant with a cool, foodie vibe the buildout was a bit too cookie-cutter. The chairs and tables were cheap—and the tables way too close together. Huge families were squeezing by trying to get to their seats.It was Mother’s Day, so people of all ages: babies, strollers, old people with walkers, all struggled to get around.
There was an interesting collection of toy sheep on the shelf and a very cool light installation made of rubbage, shards of metal, and glass hanging from the ceiling that was a work of art. But, it seemed like the chef maybe just liked sheep and cool art, as there was no overall aesthetic to the place.
The Bitches say: C+. The food was delectable, and the waiter quite kind. The space was just so-so. If you fire the hostess, we’ll give you an A.
926 South Street
(Washington Square West)
Bitch Biz: Bitches Who Brunch were invited by Visit Philly to check out Philadelphia. This brunch was on them.