Walking into Broken Rocks CafÈ & Bakery for the first time, I had my very own Dorothy moment (minus the red sparkly slippers, of course). ìGreat Scots,” I wanted to shout, ìI have a feeling weíre not in Wooster anymore.”
Though Iíve been there countless times since, I always get that same feeling when I first walk in the doors. Whether itís the hostessís smiling face that greets me, the smell of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen or the jazz music playing in the background, Iíve always found this restaurant to be a pleasant surprise and nice change of pace from the cafeteria food and late fast-food runs that plague my body and wallet when the midnight hunger pains strike.
To drink, I took a risk and strayed from my usual water with three lemons and ordered lemonade, which my friend earlier told me was ìthe greatest lemonade youíll ever have.” Much to my surprise, she was actually right. A few minutes after I ordered the lemonade, I glanced to the bar and noticed the bartender seemed to be squeezing some sort of fruit with a juicer into an ice-filled glass. Now, I donít know for sure ó but the lemonade had such a balance of tartness, sweetness and crumbles of actual sugar that I wouldnít be surprised if it had been made from freshly squeezed lemons. Itís truly this sort of thing that makes Broken Rocks the ultimate in upscale, impeccable comfort food dining.
When our waitress, a friendly, young-looking girl, named off the list of the evenings soups that were written on a chalkboard above the bar, I took no hesitation in ordering the tomato soup, a staple dish of the restaurant. The soup arrived in less than seven minutes and was plated beautifully. The sea of red was perfumed with fresh tomatoes, garnished with minced herbs and drizzled with a layer of velvety white cheese, which complemented the chunks of tomato and onion quite nicely. The robust soup was definitely creamy but without a doubt had a bit of a kick towards the end. Whether it was the red pepper flakes or freshly cracked black pepper, you could definitely feel the heat within the soup, making it all the more alluring. While I was devouring my soup while trying not to look like a starving cavewoman, our waitress also brought a plate of their homemade house bread with slightly soft butter in a small bowl, which for me, made all the difference. I dare you to name one person who enjoys spreading hardened butter on top of warm bread?
Under the mindset that in order to properly review a restaurant, you must try a selection of items, I also ordered a salad to split with my friend along with my entrÈe. We decided on the Parmesan salad, which was dressed simply with romaine, homemade croutons, chunks of Parmesan cheese and a dressing reminiscent of the classic Caesar. Although the salad was good, I was more impressed with the fact that the waitress remembered our decision to split and her offering of two plates to properly enjoy the salad for two. Along with that, the salad was definitely more than enough for the both of us, which was much appreciated considering how hungry we were. The chefs could have easily decided to give us a smaller portion, but they didnít and we both felt we had received an adequate amount.
With my stomach at this point more than half-full, I had almost forgotten I had ordered an entrÈe ó the Cajun chicken pasta. However, when I saw our waitress place a creamy, spice-dusted bowl of pasta in front of me, I couldnít resist. The fettuccine noodles were almost to the point of drowning in the orange speckled cream sauce but I didnít mind, considering I was planning on using the leftover bread for dipping. There were also red and green peppers stuffed throughout the bowl as well as chunks of grilled chicken coated in the sauce. Now, I wonít lie ó if youíre not a fan of spicy, I wouldnít particularly recommend this pasta. Despite the constant refills of my water glass, this dish has been one of my favorites for the past three years Iíve been at Wooster.
When our waitress asked if we wanted dessert, it pained me to decline, considering my unhealthy obsession with their double chocolate coffee cookies. Simply put, I was so full I donít think I could have even mustered the energy to pick up a single bite of the cookie. I had dutifully cleaned each one of my plates, which, if that doesnít prove my overall satisfaction with the restaurant, dÈcor and staff, Iím not sure what else would.