SideBern’s
2208 W Morrison, Tampa, FL
“One World Under Food” is the tag line and according to the verbiage on the website we are invited to “unwind and enjoy SideBern’s progressive, fresh choices of modern Mediterranean cuisine and savor flavors and textures that range from the exotic to the deliciously familiar created with seasonal ingredients and culinary influences from France, Italy, Spain and North Africa”. A fair enough description if it were not so contradictory. First of all SideBern’s is definitely not a place I would think of going to “unwind”. The dated interior design, despite the make-over a couple of years ago when they opened up the bar area, vanquished the high communal table and splashed on a curious hue of red paint is still deliberately cold and daunting. The bar, busy some nights with wannabes and South Tampa mucky mucks jockeying for position prevents a serious diner from completely relaxing as the noise level rises even in the far reaches of the brick walled dinning corridor. The once hip Kruder & Dorfmeister music loop does not help either. The speed-freak buzz in the place ensures the opposite of “unwinding.”
I do rather wish I had not read the bit about “modern Mediterranean cuisine”. I was quite comfortable believing the kitchen were constantly doing a sort of culinary William Burroughs cut-up technique with recipe books. In my innocence I humbly thought the glaringly mismatched ingredients and flavors were deliberate. I must stress the quality of those ingredients has never faltered on all of my many visits. Before and since the changing of the kitchen guard I have openly questioned just whom the SideBern’s food manipulators are attempting to woo with their carefully crafted creations. Not for a moment can it be the grand dames of South Tampa or the bling bling flashing hotties and their thick neck or wrinkled beaus who commandeer the bar; the dismal local “foodie” bloggers cannot afford to dine here more than once a year, so the model diner has to be the expense account crowd. As it should be of course, after all who wants to drop a couple of hundred bucks on meal you cannot comprehend with wine you’ve never heard of.
It was with an expense account Mr. R on a recent trip from London invited me to a Wednesday evening repast at SideBern’s with the intention of asking for my considered opinion on a new venture he was about to unveil in New York. Mr. R was staying in my guest suite, so we began our evening with my flawlessly mixed cocktail of blackcurrant vodka, crushed ice, home made lemonade, a dash of grenadine, shaken and served up with a sprig of fresh mint. As we finished our cocktails, Mr. R reminded me of the last time he was in Tampa and we went to SideBern’s on a Friday night. I had reserved a table for four in the main dinning room against the east wall. As we stepped into the room, the boisterous noise was foreboding, the bar crowd spilling exuberantly into the dinning room was frightening. I turned to the now startled Mr. R and asked if he was comfortable dinning under such conditions. His famous acid tongue went into overdrive; thankfully I could only hear every other profanity above the din. On this occasion my quick-witted dinner companion asked, “Are you trying to sooth my nerves before we enter that effing place again, dear boy?”
Perhaps the financial climate is affecting expense account diners and SideBern’s bar crowd? The place was only one quarter full, and it felt more sterile than ever. R and I settled down to peruse the menu carefully. The female waiter was charming, gracious and exceptionally professional even though she knows who I am and immediately recognized my guest. We ordered two glasses of Sancerre and the yellow fin tuna. The wine arrived courtesy of and delivered by the manager who correctly did not fuss over us and went on his way as the tuna arrived with surprising promptness. R and I agreed the portion was a little skimpy, the quality fine and the lemon oil overbearing. Our waitress appeared exactly at the right moment for us to order the veal sweetbreads and jumbo shrimp as she refilled our glasses with the sparkling water which I had not ordered but she knew I would. The sweetbreads and shrimp again, arrived promptly. Both dishes were adequate yet each would have improved by a refined hand at season shelf. We left half of each dish uneaten.
Mr. R was engrossed in explaining the new venture as the waitress stood by waiting to take our order for entrées. Seizing a moment between his breaths she deftly interrupted and took our order of quail, pork tenderloin and a bottle of Pauillac. R can become animated and excited as he talks, which he did on this occasion but his professional eye did not miss the fact that our wine took almost as long as our entrées to arrive. When the quail and pork dishes did appear on the table, R opinioned to anyone in earshot that the “effing kitchen must have effing fallen asleep for a while unless they have a farmyard out back and the bird and piggy are really effing fresh!”. The quail and pork were fresh but not quite just slaughtered. Mr. R and I were not pleased with the wild rice bread pudding accompanying the quail. Was it over cooked, competing with the fig stuffing? Something did not gel and spoilt what should have been an enjoyable dish. Too many things were happening on the same plate as the pork tenderloin. The overall effect was confusing although the tastes were delicious when separated. The Pauillac was sadly too cold.
And so to dessert. Mr. R and I understand why desserts are on menus and encourage restaurants to always offer at least a couple selections but there was nothing on the menu that could tempt us so we opted for the cheese selection. We chose a Ticklemore goatmilk, Butler’s Blacksticks blue and a Sottocenere semi hard accompanied by two glasses of Old Vine Shiraz from Australia. The cheese and wine arrived simultaneously, within five minutes, thankfully abating Mr. R’s potential effing if they hadn’t. The cheeses were delicious and awarded not only top marks by both of us but Mr. R deemed them the best part of our meal. All the dedicated work in the kitchen should not go unnoticed yet why do I have the feeling that Mr. R and I are not alone in leaving licking our lips, savoring the excellent cheeses and nothing else?
Food: So many ideas and it shows
Service: So well trained and it shows
Ambience: So dated and it shows
2208 W Morrison, Tampa, FL
“One World Under Food” is the tag line and according to the verbiage on the website we are invited to “unwind and enjoy SideBern’s progressive, fresh choices of modern Mediterranean cuisine and savor flavors and textures that range from the exotic to the deliciously familiar created with seasonal ingredients and culinary influences from France, Italy, Spain and North Africa”. A fair enough description if it were not so contradictory. First of all SideBern’s is definitely not a place I would think of going to “unwind”. The dated interior design, despite the make-over a couple of years ago when they opened up the bar area, vanquished the high communal table and splashed on a curious hue of red paint is still deliberately cold and daunting. The bar, busy some nights with wannabes and South Tampa mucky mucks jockeying for position prevents a serious diner from completely relaxing as the noise level rises even in the far reaches of the brick walled dinning corridor. The once hip Kruder & Dorfmeister music loop does not help either. The speed-freak buzz in the place ensures the opposite of “unwinding.”
I do rather wish I had not read the bit about “modern Mediterranean cuisine”. I was quite comfortable believing the kitchen were constantly doing a sort of culinary William Burroughs cut-up technique with recipe books. In my innocence I humbly thought the glaringly mismatched ingredients and flavors were deliberate. I must stress the quality of those ingredients has never faltered on all of my many visits. Before and since the changing of the kitchen guard I have openly questioned just whom the SideBern’s food manipulators are attempting to woo with their carefully crafted creations. Not for a moment can it be the grand dames of South Tampa or the bling bling flashing hotties and their thick neck or wrinkled beaus who commandeer the bar; the dismal local “foodie” bloggers cannot afford to dine here more than once a year, so the model diner has to be the expense account crowd. As it should be of course, after all who wants to drop a couple of hundred bucks on meal you cannot comprehend with wine you’ve never heard of.
It was with an expense account Mr. R on a recent trip from London invited me to a Wednesday evening repast at SideBern’s with the intention of asking for my considered opinion on a new venture he was about to unveil in New York. Mr. R was staying in my guest suite, so we began our evening with my flawlessly mixed cocktail of blackcurrant vodka, crushed ice, home made lemonade, a dash of grenadine, shaken and served up with a sprig of fresh mint. As we finished our cocktails, Mr. R reminded me of the last time he was in Tampa and we went to SideBern’s on a Friday night. I had reserved a table for four in the main dinning room against the east wall. As we stepped into the room, the boisterous noise was foreboding, the bar crowd spilling exuberantly into the dinning room was frightening. I turned to the now startled Mr. R and asked if he was comfortable dinning under such conditions. His famous acid tongue went into overdrive; thankfully I could only hear every other profanity above the din. On this occasion my quick-witted dinner companion asked, “Are you trying to sooth my nerves before we enter that effing place again, dear boy?”
Perhaps the financial climate is affecting expense account diners and SideBern’s bar crowd? The place was only one quarter full, and it felt more sterile than ever. R and I settled down to peruse the menu carefully. The female waiter was charming, gracious and exceptionally professional even though she knows who I am and immediately recognized my guest. We ordered two glasses of Sancerre and the yellow fin tuna. The wine arrived courtesy of and delivered by the manager who correctly did not fuss over us and went on his way as the tuna arrived with surprising promptness. R and I agreed the portion was a little skimpy, the quality fine and the lemon oil overbearing. Our waitress appeared exactly at the right moment for us to order the veal sweetbreads and jumbo shrimp as she refilled our glasses with the sparkling water which I had not ordered but she knew I would. The sweetbreads and shrimp again, arrived promptly. Both dishes were adequate yet each would have improved by a refined hand at season shelf. We left half of each dish uneaten.
Mr. R was engrossed in explaining the new venture as the waitress stood by waiting to take our order for entrées. Seizing a moment between his breaths she deftly interrupted and took our order of quail, pork tenderloin and a bottle of Pauillac. R can become animated and excited as he talks, which he did on this occasion but his professional eye did not miss the fact that our wine took almost as long as our entrées to arrive. When the quail and pork dishes did appear on the table, R opinioned to anyone in earshot that the “effing kitchen must have effing fallen asleep for a while unless they have a farmyard out back and the bird and piggy are really effing fresh!”. The quail and pork were fresh but not quite just slaughtered. Mr. R and I were not pleased with the wild rice bread pudding accompanying the quail. Was it over cooked, competing with the fig stuffing? Something did not gel and spoilt what should have been an enjoyable dish. Too many things were happening on the same plate as the pork tenderloin. The overall effect was confusing although the tastes were delicious when separated. The Pauillac was sadly too cold.
And so to dessert. Mr. R and I understand why desserts are on menus and encourage restaurants to always offer at least a couple selections but there was nothing on the menu that could tempt us so we opted for the cheese selection. We chose a Ticklemore goatmilk, Butler’s Blacksticks blue and a Sottocenere semi hard accompanied by two glasses of Old Vine Shiraz from Australia. The cheese and wine arrived simultaneously, within five minutes, thankfully abating Mr. R’s potential effing if they hadn’t. The cheeses were delicious and awarded not only top marks by both of us but Mr. R deemed them the best part of our meal. All the dedicated work in the kitchen should not go unnoticed yet why do I have the feeling that Mr. R and I are not alone in leaving licking our lips, savoring the excellent cheeses and nothing else?
Food: So many ideas and it shows
Service: So well trained and it shows
Ambience: So dated and it shows
