Burrell Inn - (Near Lower Burrell, PA)

5 /5 Malinda Dunmire: The chicken wrap was delicious and stuffed with goodness. Service was fast and friendly! The bar area had a nice atmosphere. The music was a bit loud for my liking, making it hard to hear the waitress or anyone else.

5 /5 Holly “Squirrel”: Very good food. The service was excellent. The bartender/ waitress went above and beyond she was great. Thank you for taking such good care of us.

4 /5 Koch Andrew (Dobie Tanpaw): Simple, small, and for the most part quiet (though the bar can get noisy during games). The dining room is very simple, but the food and service are top-notch. Beer is ice cold, and the wings are GIGANTIC. I love going here for an inexpensive meal and a few drinks.

5 /5 Shadi Zahed: Great food, drinks, and crowd. Jess & the owner were very friendly & accommodating.

2 /5 Edward Scizzorhands: Update from eat-in on 12/29/25. Next review: Q1 2027. Who doesn’t love the Burrell Inn? I mean the memory of it. Because if a bar could get dementia, the Burrell Inn is deep into Stage 7 Alzheimers. We gave it one more try in late December 2025. Another big letdown. Imagine buying a Primanti Bros franchise and pulling the signature sandwich because you personally don’t like coleslaw and fries on bread. That’s the level of decision-making here. In the Burrell Inn’s case: Who looks at a beloved, half-century-old chicken wing recipe and says, “Yeah, let’s fix that”? From Local Legend to Slow-Motion Self-Sabotage For over 50 years—under different owners and even a different name (Welcome Inn)—this place was a cult classic. The wings were iconic: paprika, season salt, garlic. Thomas (later branded Ciciarelli) family salad dressing. Hot pepper cheese balls. Doors open at 10 AM, packed with regulars by noon. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t polished. But it was ALIVE! Now? It feels like walking through the ghost of a good memory while someone quietly dismantles it with a butter knife. The Wings: A 50-Year Masterpiece, “Improved” into Oblivion The wings were the cornerstone—the one non-negotiable reason people came here. Paprika-rich, unmistakable, “paprika hands” a badge of honor you wore home. People planned nights around these wings. The kind of recipe you only change if you’ve recently taken a blow to the head. And yet… they changed it. That’s the headline. That’s the obituary. Out of everything they could have updated or reimagined, they went straight for the one thing that wasn’t broken. Again, for the people in the back: WHO IN THE HELL LOOKS AT A BELOVED HALF-CENTURY-OLD RECIPE AND THINKS, “YEAH, LET’S FIX THAT”? Smoke-Free… and Five Years Too Late They finally banned indoor smoking. The problem? They fixed it after the funeral. Congratulations: you put out the fire after the house burned down. The customers found safe haven elsewhere and haven’t come back. You know what they didn’t wait five years to mess with? The wings. Hours That Match the Energy This used to be a 10 AM bar buzzing by noon. Now they don’t unlock the doors until 4 PM. That’s not “adjusted hours.” That’s a surrender flag. You don’t cut your hours, shrink your portions, neglect the atmosphere, and tamper with the crown jewel unless you fundamentally don’t understand why people came here. Ownership: Nice Guy, Wrong Captain By all accounts, the owner is a nice guy. That’s not sarcasm—that’s what everyone says. But this is not a “nice guy” business. This is a “know what the hell you’re doing” business. Changing an iconic 50-year recipe while ignoring the decaying atmosphere, dwindling hours, and uneven service isn’t vision—it’s burnout dressed up as confidence. The Tragedy A bar like this survives on one thing other places can’t copy. They had that. It was the wings. They changed it. The saddest part isn’t that it changed; everything changes. The tragedy is how it changed. What was once a beloved institution is now a cautionary tale in how to squander legacy, loyalty, and identity. Addendum (12/2025): Dozen wings and chicken salads. $50. Horrendous. Wings still the fake recipe—soggy, bland. Threw most away. Salads: iceberg lettuce, barely a chicken breast worth, minced cheese, soggy fries, half a hard-boiled egg. Not like it used to be. If you’re going for nostalgia, prepare to be disappointed. The Burrell Inn isn’t just past its prime; it’s actively burning through whatever goodwill it has left. And at the center of it all is the same, stupid, avoidable decision: WHO IN THE HELL LOOKS AT A BELOVED HALF-CENTURY-OLD RECIPE AND THINKS, “YEAH, LET’S FIX THAT”? That said, here’s the maddening part: this is fixable. Bring back the real wings. Restore the hours to match the identity. Actually invest in the atmosphere instead of coasting on the name. Do that, and the Burrell Inn could stop being a slow-motion obituary and start being what it once was: the place. Until then, it’s just a memory with a liquor license.