Frankford Hall is a faux-German Biergarten in Fishtown. Of course I know it's not going to be 'authentic' but it was almost laughable. Well, not everything: bad service was pretty true to form. The Bratwurst presentation was pathetic. See above. This small pork sausage was marginal at best, presumably just rolled around on a griddle for a few minutes, nowhere near an open flame. Same with the bun. A soft, doughy, buttered white hotdog bun you would find in a roadside diner or the discount rack at Thriftway. The Sauerkraut may have taken the cake for worst component, though. Bucket slop in a sour acid bath.
Listen, I love griddled meats and simple hotdog buns, but not in this context. And I hate to sound like an asshole, but maybe eating true wurst mit brot in Germany spoiled me. Frankford Hall's pails in comparison to the cheapest and most questionable joints I stumbled upon over there. Plus, I really don't want to pay $6 for something I know can be easily made much better on my hibachi. It may be cool to hang with a big group outside over some Victory Pils, but eating and/or sitting inside the massive faux-SoHo warehouse is a no-go, especially amongst a crowd of screaming semi-professional Jenga players celebrating a 21st birthday. (Although I'm sure that's not a nightly occurrence.) I'm not on board with the metric beer menu gimmick, either. .5L is only 16.9 fluid ounces, merely an ounce over a typical pint. Not worth the up-charge. Not fooling anybody. And I'm just plain stumped by $4.50 12-oz Lager bottles.
I'd love to see this spot done right. But until then, there are myriad better-tasting, more affordable, and more authentic restaurant/bars within a block or two. With all due respect to Stephen Starr, Frankford Hall is caught in limbo. Or maybe just awkward adolescence. It is only a year old. And while there is certainly potential for this place, right now Frankford Hall misses the mark.
Frankford & Girard
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