Trey Popp reviews the Saint James in Ardmore. What was once the culinary hope of the Main Line gets savaged.
Gnocchi with braised brisket featured the meat in puzzlingly large hunks, too dry to shred apart. The “juice” of a flat-iron steak had all the umami of water squeezed from cardboard. There was a properly cooked salmon fillet (sauced, in December, with pesto), and I liked a crispy clam-and-bacon flatbread. But not enough to offset the watery mushroom soup.
No Stars – Poor