SB
stacie benefield
Dec 27, 2025
This place has exactly one thing going for it: it’s inside an old church.
Which is tragic, because that should be an automatic win. Stained glass! Character! Soul! Instead, what you get is a space that somehow manages to feel both unfinished and uninviting — like a pop-up café that lost its will to live.
The tables are arranged in a way that suggests they were placed by someone spinning in circles with their eyes closed, and the chairs appear to be intentionally designed to discourage lingering. Sit, eat, leave. Reflect elsewhere.
Service is “order at the counter” with self-serve coffee and water — totally fine in theory. In practice, there was no greeting, the coffee and water were nearly empty, and the general vibe was “you’re late and we’re already emotionally clocked out.” It felt less like a café and more like showing up to the high-school cafeteria five minutes before lunch ends, and the staff are peeling off hairnets, ready to go home.
Now, the food.
I ordered the avocado toast — not by choice, but by circumstance — because apparently eggs Benedict stops being a viable option at exactly noon. Why? Because hollandaise sauce only lives for four hours, and since they close at 2:00, they’ve collectively decided those final two hours of service are not worthy of a fresh batch. A bold business philosophy.
My boyfriend ordered the huevos verdes, which sounds promising.
Signature-dish-adjacent. Their spin on huevos rancheros, perhaps? What arrived was… a burger-shaped patty with an egg on top. Optimism fading but still alive, we tried it.
Oh hell to the no.
The mysterious brown patty (our best guess: bean-based) was nearly frozen in the center and completely inedible. A culinary cry for help.
As for the decor — I don’t have time to fully unpack it, but imagine someone tried just enough to make things worse. Sparse, awkward accents distracted from a sea of whitewashed walls and randomly mounted, slightly-off-white acoustic tiles. They really brought the room together....
Despite coffee, water, and silverware being self-serve, condiments remain behind the counter — meaning if you want hot sauce, you must wait patiently while the staff engages in a deeply committed discussion about tea.
To be fair: when we pointed out the frozen mystery patty, they did refund our entire order. Credit where credit is due.
And finally — as we were leaving — we noticed the exterior of the building. A scattered collection of random items: old hoses, general debris, and what appeared to be a rusted commercial stove, quietly decaying on the property like a warning sign.
Had we noticed this junkyard-adjacent scene upon arrival, we might have spared ourselves the entire unsavory brunch experience.
Amen.