I don't even know where to start when describing my experience at this Diesel-esque, Bro'd out, East Carson night spot. I realize this place is new but dear lord.. it is suffering from a serious identity crisis. I walked in last week and was immediately drowned out by comically loud club music. Generally speaking I don't have any problem with that whatsoever, but it was a Monday at around 7 pm and there were maybe 5 other patrons inhabiting this place. When I surveyed the scene I saw that the owner (I assume he was the owner) was basically just giving orders and bro-ing out with his bro's over a steady regiment of shooters. I also noticed that all the employees seemed to be sauced as well. Keep in mind these people clearly aren't MENSA members to begin with so a day filled with booze and bro-stuff likely wasn't helping already negligible speaking and breathing skills.
Took a look at the menu and some stuff looked interesting. One of the supplement addled bro's "working" behind the bar dropped a few bro-like adjectives when making his recommendations. We got some "killer wings" and a few sliders. Wings were just okay, nothing out of the ordinary but certainly not bad. The sliders were actually pretty quiche (yuengling infused.. i think?)
Just a completely regrettable experience from start to finish. I'll be charitable and give this ex-frat boy's trust fund experiment (perhaps a large generalization but it really can't be all that far off) an 8 month maximum shelf life.
2 stars-- 1 for the sliders.. and another because the waitress behind the bar was wearing these yoga pants that were.. just great. it was quite literally the only thing stopping me from taking one of the bartender's Winni syringes, driving to the north side, and facilitating the purchase of a lethal dose of fentanyl laced opiates.