Grand Concourse

Forgive the cliché, but they really don’t build ‘em like they used to.

Why is that, anyway? Something to do with scarcity of materials? The high cost of labor? A general lack of care? a bit of ‘all of the above’?

Grand Concourse was built as a train station (The Pittsburgh & Lake Erie Station).

Train stations are supposed to be utilitarian. They aren’t built to woo customers. This wasn’t a business designed to get folks in the door by saying, ‘look here, see how nice our station is compared to the other guy’s. Use us instead for your train travel needs!’ No, People visited here because there was no other alternative. So really, there shouldn’t have been a reason to make it aesthetically pleasing, yet they did. And because they did, an historic building like this makes a wonderful backdrop for a restaurant.

The Grand Concourse: Built in 1901, deemed historic in 1974, renovated into an eatery four years later, visited for brunch by me and an 11-year-old companion not too long ago.

Upon entering, take care crossing the threshold into the main dining room. You needn’t resist the urge to look up, because everyone looks up, but mind the throngs of guests parading past this way and that.

I imagine a shared sense of excitement for both the boy and me, taking in the grandeur of the building along with the sights and sounds and colors and smells all around competing for our attention. For him, perhaps something like walking into Wonka’s chocolate factory. For me, well maybe the same.

There were options. We could look both ways before we cross. We could step in and get swept up in the parade. Better, I thought, to wrap my arm around his shoulder, stand aside and pause for a minute to just, look around.

There were arches, there were windows, there was glass (much of which came in the stained variety), there were columns both rounded and squared that began on platforms already sitting above our heads and then reached ten times higher than that, ending with ornate ironwork designs atop. And there was marble. Marble everywhere!

There were clocks on the wall, tiles on the floor, various chandelier designs hung from the ceiling. There were light fixtures that looked like streetlamp candelabras, with big glass orbs all around, and of course, there was the staircase. Either you time it just right, or you wait for the other groups to finish their photo shoot.

I think my companion appreciated all of this, at least he gave it the cursory wide-eyes and oohs and aahs to satisfy me so we could move on to the food. OK, let’s move on.

It’s a buffet brunch, and you’d be wise to take a lap and acquaint yourself before digging in. But don’t rush off so quickly. Sit down a moment, let the staff give you the rundown, order a Bloody Mary. You’ll find out they have:

A pasta station, with 3 made to order pastas.

An omelet station.

A carving station (prime rib, ham, smoked turkey) with mini peel-and-eat cocktail shrimp, Caesar salad, and chilled mussels.

A line of standard breakfast fare (eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, etc., etc., etc.)

Smaller stations with assorted finger foods, salads, and vegetables.

Don't expect the best food you've ever eaten, enjoy the variety of options. Lots to taste, lots to discover.

We took several laps over the course of our meal, I’d like to say we tried it all but we couldn’t. Partly because there was just too much, partly because we had to save room for dessert. The pastries were easy to find, as was the chocolate fountain he visited multiple times to dip pound cake and strawberries. But it wasn’t until we had almost finished, given up and cried ‘uncle’ to the all-you -can-eat that we found the pièce de resistance.

We ducked into one of several rooms off the main dining hall, and inside saw a waffle station with a line of folks pressing their own and topping them with goodies.

“Waffles!” said the boy.

Nah, I said. Forget it. We've had enough to eat. But then, as we turned to leave... There it was, this big... thing. This gray contraption sort of thing, hovering over some other sort of thing. A sort of conveyor belt, this line running and pumping, burping and squirting and flipping. On closer inspection, the contraption moved to and fro over a conveyor belt filled with hot oil. At each stop it pumped out thick rings of dough that dropped down and sizzled in the oil before moving on down the line, flipping themselves over and browning to perfection before cascading down into a rotating dish. These hot and fresh donuts ready to be dipped into cinnamon or powdered sugar.

Yes, Wonka had been here after all.

Grand Concourse

100 W Station Square Dr

https://www.grandconcourserestaurant.com/