Wildwood Inn - Breezewood

My family went to Breezewood a little later than planned. Questions about good food and a cocktail were told about Wildholz Gasthof. The cook was excellent, I think his name was Bryan. The merciful in service with their dark hair Cant remember their name was very unlady like. She should worry that she put money in her bra by young men in the bar. At this point my family and I felt like we were somewhere in a strip club in Maryland. Let the owner do this all the time oh well if your little life you act the part very well. You as an older lady who you do not your age your underwear size. Shame.

I didnt know whether I was in a country saloon where the cowboys congregate but excuse me.I had to listen to songs-racial songs at that by david allen coe.The barmaid was just laughing and having a good old time i didnt know if she was loretta lynn lokkalike or just trying to be somebody.you poor child.however the food was fabulous.i know you cant control who all enters their but your jukebox needs to be redone and your barmaid that works around 7:00 everynight needs some self control.the food once again as far as a steak will be hard to beat you got it going on there.keep up the good work.

It seems that Brenda, the bartender, could use a refresher on checking IDs from various states. It's important for bartenders to verify IDs properly, especially when it comes to government-issued identification. Unfortunately, she didn’t provide the best service. Hopefully, she'll improve in the future.

Not a great experience. We stopped on our way from Ohio to Atlantic City and were greeted by a bartender who seemed indifferent. She asked for my ID, and as a former bartender myself, I handed it over with a smile, despite being 35 and looking my age. After about five minutes, she came back and accused me of having a fake ID. It felt like a classic case of small-town attitude—if you’re not from here, you’re not welcome.

Not great. We stopped on our way from Ohio to Atlantic City. We were greeted by a bartender who seemed available and asked for my ID. As a former bartender, I handed it over with a smile, despite being 35 and unfortunately looking every bit of it. After five minutes, she came back and told me that my ID was fake. Basically, it felt like if you're not from this small town, you’re not welcome here.