At the far edge of Prince Edward County, in the storied Victorian mansion known as Merrill House, a city is rising again. Not physically, not exactly—but in spirit, taste, design and sheer, intoxicating imagination. Brasserie Alexandria, the new restaurant conceived by hotelier and dream-weaver Jordan Martin, isn’t so much themed as it is channelled. Ancient Egypt collides with French culinary decadence. Mythology meets mustard sauce. Alexandria is alive again—and this time, she’s serving wine.
“The idea wasn’t to recreate ancient Egypt,” Jordan says, lounging in the new dining chair like a 21st-century pharaoh among blue velvet and gold tassles. “It was: What if Alexandria never died? What would it look like today?”
The answer, apparently, is a glowing ceiling of hand-painted constellations (exactingly executed under the magnificent hand of Evert Rosales de Martin), an imagined pharaoh of Burgundy sipping from a hieroglyphic reflecting wine glass, and escargot served in a room charged with the ghosts of Cleopatra and Plato. It’s not kitsch. It’s not pastiche. It’s a vision—audacious, eccentric, and deeply thoughtful .
But of course it is. That’s what you get when my bestie Jordan is at the helm.
A New Brasserie for the New Pharaohs
Brasserie Alexandria doesn’t entirely replace the fine-dining program that long defined Merrill House, but enhances it. “It was time to loosen the collar,” Jordan says. “We wanted it to be joyful, accessible, atmospheric—still elevated, but less stiff.” The French brasserie format gives space for indulgence. Think tartare, duck confit, oysters, escargot. Think Burgundy and Beaujolais. Think one more glass, one more plate, one more story.
But don’t confuse approachable with ordinary. “I’m a vegetarian,” Jordan notes, “and I still wanted to be able to have the full Brasserie experience. So the menu is thoughtful. It has something for everyone—but no compromises on flavour.”
I ask him which dish best captures the philosophy of Brasserie Alexandria.
He pauses. “Maybe oysters,” he says. “The ancients ate them exactly as we do now. There’s something about that—about continuity. It’s sensual. It’s elemental.”
A Vision in Layers
The restaurant’s design is more than aesthetic—it’s symbolic. The ceiling’s constellations mirror the skies over Alexandria on the day Alexander was born, and again on the day Cleopatra died. The 300 years between those two moments mark the “glory days” of Alexandria—the city of knowledge, beauty, contradiction. A cosmopolis founded by a Greek, ruled by an Egyptian queen, and conquered by Rome.
“This isn’t a history lesson,” Jordan says. “It’s a living space. A space of ideas.” That might sound lofty, but as is Jordan’s typical way, you feel it when you’re there. It’s in the low, intimate lighting; the warm candlelight bouncing off an ancient-looking bust. It’s in the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain. It’s in the fact that everything—every object, every phrase, every French pop song floating through the air—has been chosen with absolute, multi-layered intent.
Somewhere in the conversation, we get lost in a debate about culture versus politics. “Culture always wins,” Jordan insists. “Politics is ephemeral. Culture is what lasts.” There’s a long aside about sexuality in ancient Greece, and an impassioned riff on how real beauty is timeless, not trend-based. This, in case you were wondering, is normal Thursday evening chit-chat for us.
The Library Returns
Brasserie Alexandria isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a spark for something larger. This spring, Merrill House launches its ‘House of Culture’ programming, with public talks hosted in the reimagined Library of Alexandria. Philosophy, history, symposia, no politics or religion (those are just “imagined constructs,” Jordan says confidently). The goal? To build a community of curiosity. “Everyone is welcome,” he says. “Except people who refuse to think for themselves.”
Sounds reasonable to me.
Everything is Fleeting. Order the Wine.
So what will this experience hold for us all—County brothers and sisters, and visitors alike?
“I want them to feel inspired,” Jordan says. “Go home and paint that room a colour you love, even if your friends hate it. Book the trip you’ve been dreaming of. Open the bottle you’ve been saving. Immerse yourself in beauty. Think differently.”
We recline in our indulgent seats and sip from a beautiful bottle of Marsanne from Northern Rhone that boasts a moldy label that’s barely readable, but the proof of the wine is in the glass. A beam of amber light from one of the little lanterns placed strategically around the room flickers across the face of a bust of someone I then believed to be Cleopatra in the corner. But thinking back now, I guess it could have been Socrates or perhaps a 19th-century French poet. It might have been Jordan’s own likeness in stone, for all I remember—the very good wine softened the edges of my memory that night, but I’ll be back to check soon enough.
Brasserie Alexandria isn’t meant to make sense as a new restaurant launch in Prince Edward County. It’s meant to stir you. To make you feel—inspired, alive, maybe a little drunk. Like you just stumbled into another era, another reality. One where culture is on the table for everyone, where beauty is still sacred, and where oysters are always in season.
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