The Little Grill Collective assumes the vibe of someone’s cool grandmother’s house: relaxed, welcoming, and painted in shades of graying turquoise. Old decks of “Trivial Pursuit” sit on most tables next to the salt and pepper; a stack of “Uno” cards rest in the far window. Black and white tiles checker across the floor, mimicking the kitchen in the board game “Clue.”
The building itself harbors an interesting history, built originally as a bathhouse for a nearby pool in the 1930s, then renovated into a restaurant the following decade. In the ’80s, the restaurant was “hippified,” according to Little Grill’s website, with rock shows, open bar, and hot chili. The restaurant changed many hands before landing in Ron Copeland’s in 1992. By 2003, Copeland had implemented the collective style of ownership Little Grill is proud of today, managed by the workers and owners together in a democratic, circle- processing, community style.
To the broader Harrisonburg community, Little Grill opens its doors on 621 N Main St from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. most days, with the exception of opening at 8 a.m. on Sundays and closing all day Monday. They serve the same menu day-long: eggs, omlets, seasonal pancakes, biscuits and gravy, burritos, potato boats, and breakfast sandwiches, with plenty of vegan, vegetarian, and gluten-free options. Most of the menu items cost between $7 and $9.50.
Customers file through the door, a new cluster replacing the one that waddled outside moments before. On Tuesday mornings, the exchange of customers is easy, smooth, cyclical. On Sunday afternoons, however, when everyone in Park View decides they are craving brunch for their noon meal, the flow clots into an hour-long waiting list. Before you visit, check out the average busyness gauge on Google Maps. Or, if you are in no rush, wait around — the experience is worth it.
I select a small table in the far corner. A collage of colorful images decorates the surface, much like the table we have in Common Grounds, but with less wear and tear. This one is protected by thick plastic, a material so glossy that if you happen to spill your creamer, the liquid will ball up and make mopping up the evidence rather tricky. There is a checkerboard in the middle of the collage, so if you get bored while you wait, you can enlist the sugar packets as playing pieces, natural stevia versus Splenda.
I order the “Seasonal Beth’s Favorite,” which consists of two scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese, zucchini, mushrooms, onions, and kale with my choice side of plain yogurt. Other side options include: homemade biscuits, home fries, grits, toast, or applesauce, to name a few. With $2.50 coffee, my bill rings $11 even.
From the first bite, I am satisfied with the steaming heap on my plate — cheesy, hearty in texture, obviously not made of powdered eggs. My chef has wilted the kale just enough to retain its flavor and crunch without breaking my teeth on the stems. I savor every bite, probably looking like an idiot smiling so big at a plate of food in public.
I am struck by the thought: I should have brought along some homework. Outlets line every wall, there is free wifi, they play soft jazz in the mornings, and coffee refills are limitless. What a lovely study spot this would be during the week during their off-peak hours.
With their hometown comfort, affordable prices, interesting backstory, and not-so-little taste, this grill begs another visit. Or ten.
