There was a fair amount of hooplah surrounding Hopscotch when it first came to the neighborhood several years ago and so far it’s managed to outlast any previous iteration that has existed in its spot. My husband ordered delivery from here a few weeks ago when I was out of town and couldn’t stop talking about how big the mozzarella sticks were. Though he warned me that we’d need to get the sticks if we went here, I assented. When we walked out a few hours later, my husband said, “Well, first of all, I have to apologize to you.” Buckle up, kids.
We sat at the bar (it’s been a while) and struggled through the opening of a conversation from the nice but clearly unsure-of-herself bartender. As an introvert, I identify with her pain and didn’t mind the brief moment of awkward conversation…until I ordered a paloma (which was listed in bold on their menu) and she had no idea how to make it. In retrospect, this should have been a clear tip-off to the quality of their drinks, but there was literally not a single beer on the menu I wanted. The bartender went to go ask the owner, who was sitting with his friends in one of their few booths, while I gave her the dignity of pretending I couldn’t hear or see this interaction. Spoiler: it was awful. Legit, it tasted like neither the Kirkland Signature tequila I saw her pour, nor like grapefruit juice. It tasted like water. My husband got a Lagunitas in a can, which tasted like it was supposed to.
As promised, we ordered the mozza sticks, and as promised, they were enormous. For $6, it’s…a lot of cheese. This picture does absolutely no justice to the size. Gooey, lava-esque melted cheese. Crispy, greasy breading. They were accompanied by a small bowl of marinara that also somehow tasted like nothing. The cheese was rescued by the mere fact of being cheese. You can’t make it taste bad. That would defy the laws of physics.
It took for.ev.er to get our entrees. I had long since finished my cocktail glass of watered-down tequila by the time the sandwiches appeared. I had gotten the sausage and peppers; my husband the BBLT.
First, the good: the sausage was fine. And putting roast beef on a BLT is a good idea in that the sandwich becomes more substantial and meal-like.
The bad: No sauce? No mayo? Both very dry. Undercooked onions.
The ugly: The fries look fine in the picture but let me assure you THEY WERE NOT. As any fellow elder millennial can attest, Ore-Ida frozen fries are one of the saddest foods your parents can cook when they’re trying to clear out space in the freezer. I can’t tell you for sure that these fries came out of a plastic bag, but I can tell you with certainty that their clammy, flavorless flaccidity was 100% reminiscent of those I was served for lunch at a home daycare circa 1989 (they apparently paired well with microwave mini White Castle cheeseburgers). They might be a good way to placate a kitchen full of toddlers in TMNT zubaz pants, but they are decidedly not a good look in an adult bar.
While we’re on the subject of adult bars, let’s just take a moment to discuss the very dank, Pennsylvania coal country vibe of this place. Sad discount arcade game that took up half the room, basic-ass foods that somehow still weren’t made well, a bar with no beer taps and only Kirkland wine. I don’t know who the people were inside, but they all seemed to be regulars to some degree, and Hopscotch seems to house its own little subculture of Miller Lite drinking, plain cheese pizza eating DC defectors.
Also, how did they waste the name Hopscotch on a bar that serves neither good beer nor (to any real extent) Scotch? This is just a disservice to puns.
Price: DC prices for Hagerstown food. $30 per person somehow.
Bottom line: Save your money and your calories.
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