The Surf Club meets expectations, but never exceeds them - Review - Miami - The Infatuation
"There is a difference between service and hospitality. Service focuses on what you need. Hospitality focuses on how you feel. It’s about treating everyone who walks into the restaurant like a guest in your own home—without having to tell your dog to stop humping them. Service at The Surf Club is impeccable. The way they crumb a table could make a fine dining snob weak in the knees. But unless you’re a VIP, regular, or spitting out cash like a broken ATM, you probably won’t find much hospitality here. Interactions are robotic, and making small talk with staff feels like committing a misdemeanor. photo credit: Adrian Gaut The team behind The Surf Club, which includes The French Laundry, has a reputation for fancy food and generous hospitality. But it feels like they’re rushing you out the second you cross that 90-minute threshold. If you ask, on the way out the door, if you can have a digestif at a bar table without a reservation, the curt response is just one word: “No.” There’s no mention of the Champagne Bar down the hall where you can, in fact, have a lovely cocktail to end the night. Interactions feel more like transactions. The only antidote we've found is sitting at the bar, where bartenders have a sense of humor honed by overhearing too many absurd conversations about old money problems. It doesn’t help that the food is largely unmemorable. The Surf Club serves dishes a 70-year-old Palm Beach socialite would want for dinner: deviled eggs, oysters rockefeller, and dover sole. That’s the point of this place—to call on the grandeur of the days when the rich and famous stayed and ate here. And there is something special about the space. The historic building has cathedral-like arches and buttressed ceilings. One dining room is outlined with plush blue booths and peacock murals. Servers in black tailored suits stoically prepare dishes on carts. You can imagine Sinatra or Churchill sitting here drinking champagne (because they did). MIA Guide Where To Have A Special Occasion Dinner If You're Not A Billionaire But instead of feeling classic, the restaurant feels antiquated. It’s just going through the motions from an old service playbook—and an even older recipe book—all while meeting expectations but never exceeding them. If you can drop $500 on a random Tuesday dinner, you’ll happily come back, because The Surf Club’s shortcomings are either not a big deal to you, or they’re invisible. But you come to a restaurant like this to feel special—not like a seat warmer for the next customer, who is thinking about selling his winter home before, as we once overheard at the bar, “Miami and all the people who live in it sinks into oblivion.” Food Rundown Butter Crudités, bread, and butter are all complimentary. And the only time your heart rate quickens during the meal is when the butter pops out of this nifty little dispenser like a dolphin jumping out of the ocean. PlayMute video credit: Virginia Otazo Deviled Eggs These are fine, classic deviled eggs, but they’re $5 each. You might get more satisfaction scratching off a $5 lotto ticket than pretending these are worth that price. PlayMute video credit: Virginia Otazo Classic Caesar Salad Surf Club’s caesar is prepared tableside, and it’s great. They even season the wooden bowl with a garlic clove. photo credit: Deborah Jones Steak Tartare The hand-cut meat is presented tableside (sensing a trend here) and simply dressed with olive oil, champagne vinegar, and frisée before it’s mixed with egg yolk and freshly shaved horseradish. It’s just different enough to be memorable and freakishly delicious. We want to see more dishes like this that taste like classics reinvigorated. PlayMute video credit: Virginia Otazo Prime Beef Short Rib Wellington You can hear the crust crunch as it’s carved tableside. The experience crescendos as a silky périgourdine sauce is poured delicately next to it. But it’s all downhill from there. We’ve just never had a beef wellington whose meat felt so mushy, especially not one that costs $160. PlayMute video credit: Virginia Otazo Fettucine Alfredo It’s creamy and speckled with bits of black winter truffles. But for $55, we were expecting more truffles. Like most everything else here, it’s good but hard to justify the price. PlayMute video credit: Virginia Otazo" - Virginia Otazo
