1 /5 Steve Meadows: The Ghost of Mertens Prime
Mertens Prime isnt just different; it’s unrecognizable.
This used to be a standout in a sea of local mediocrity—a brasserie that could actually hold its own in a real city. Apparently, those days are dead. What remains is a generic American gastropub wearing the skin of its predecessor.
The Bar & Starters:
If you’re the type who finds a two-component drink like a Whiskey Coke "adventurous," you’ll be fine. If you enjoy a balanced classic cocktail, prepare for a bitter mess. I had to send my first drink back—a rare feat for me. We transitioned to the marrow bones, usually my favorite, but these were a joke. There was barely enough marrow to coat two pieces of toast, let alone justify the price.
The Main Event (Or Lack Thereof):
The kitchen seems to view steak temperatures as a "vibe" rather than a metric. Across our table’s steak bowls, the meat was rubbery and the cook was inconsistent, served over potatoes that tasted suspiciously like they were birthed from a bag or an instant-mix box. For $36, that’s an insult.
I opted for the $50 Sirloin and Frites. Requested medium-rare; received a rare steak that was stone-cold in the center. It was a flavorless, low-quality cut of beef that even the chimichurri couldnt save—mostly because the sauce tasted like salty lawn clippings steeped in oil. The "French frites" were actually just hot steak fries. They were the only edible thing on the plate, but let’s be real: calling a steak fry a "frite" is just lying to yourself.
The Final Indignity:
I dont usually critique the plumbing, but Mertens used to pride itself on the details. To find the soap dispensers empty and replaced by a bottle of dollar-store Dial soap like you’d find at mee-maw’s house was the final nail in the coffin.
If I wanted a "gastropub" experience with Mee-maw’s toiletries, I’d have stayed home.








