I love my friend Vivien, but she always tells me, “You decide. I’ll drive,” for what has become our monthly lunch adventures. So, today, as we race down I35 toward San Antonio, I confess, “When I read the menu for Southerleigh’s it sounds like we may be having lunch at an upscale Black Eyed Pea.”  Not a bad thing I think — who doesn’t like comfort food — but for a foodie adventure, I’m not sure, and what if my decision is wrong?

Southerleigh

However, all is well the minute we hand over the keys to the parking attendant and walk through the doors of Hotel Emma — featuring industrial rust of a former brewery turned high-class elegance — keeping the rust intact. We turn left, then right then left again making our way toward the back entrance of Southerleigh Fine Food and Brewery, attached to the hotel, but not part of it. It’s complicated.

Almost the first to arrive at 11:15 a.m. the reservations I made are, apparently, unnecessary. But…

We send our server away three times, saying, “We haven’t even looked at the menu yet,” as we gawk at the perfectly imperfect surroundings. When she returns once again we are in the middle of a discussion on exactly what we perceive perfection to be. Sending her away one more time we pick up our menu and choose. We are here on a mission of discovery so we share an appetizer of deviled eggs. I mean, how many times have you ever seen deviled eggs on any menu at any restaurant?  For me, this is a first. They arrive immediately after our wine is delivered — and we share.

Beginnings

The menu specifies “hen eggs” and we laugh — what else could an egg be? Not a rooster egg for sure. But thinking about it, there are duck eggs, and quail eggs, and goose eggs, and…

The purpose of these particular eggs seems to be as a vehicle for the bacon jam marmalade topping. Which isn’t a bad purpose at all, the eggs taking an appropriate back seat in the flavor profile. I do like the pickled okra that accompanies them. An egg-and-a-half each does not fill us up, so when the salad arrives as we swallow the last bite of our deviled concoction we are almost ready, but not quite, to continue our culinary journey.

The salad closely mimics our appetizer in appearance with the exception that the half egg is soft-boiled, the fresh greens more abundant and lightly dressed, and chunks of white cheddar are tucked here and there.  Not being a total fan of grated cheese on a salad I appreciate the fact that the cheese is not center stage as I nibble my greens. Michael would love that it is served this way. You can really get a major dose of cheddar flavor with each chunk.  My eyes widen and my jaw drops as two bites into our salad the entrees arrive.

Service Too Fast?

One of the biggest complaints I read on restaurant reviews is that the service was so slow — so terrible. But can the opposite be true?  The service is too fast? Too efficient? But then I look around and see many people that are having lunch are taking an hour away from their work day, squeezing in a quick break at some place fun and cute and different. I remember having dinner with another friend years ago and the first words she said to the wait-staff after we sat down were, “We are here to dine — not just to eat.”  Perhaps I need to remember in the future to let the server know that we are planning on a leisurely dining experience rather than a quick bite. I mean, how are they to know if I don’t tell her, or him.

Redfish

I push my salad aside, deciding to eat like the Europeans — lettuce last — and make room for the cracker encrusted redfish topped with crab butter, sitting in a pool of beurre blanc. We share an order of jalapeno cheddar grits, which don’t look that special, but with the first luscious bite, Vivien and I both discover looks can be deceiving. They are creamy and cheesy and decadent, a perfect foil to the fresh crispy fish and chunks of blue crab.

Church Cake

Determined to dawdle, we order a dessert to share, telling our friendly faced efficient server, “Don’t hurry!” Vanilla ice cream just isn’t exciting, but I am curious about the alternate selection. The menu describes it as Old School Yellow Church Cake with Chocolate Buttercream Frosting — accompanied by a glass of cold milk. Who doesn’t want a taste of their childhood? A welcome memory? And the church cake is perfect for the two of us. No frills, four layers high and sandwiched together with thick frosting, I eat the yellow cake while my sweet-toothed friend delves into the chocolate buttercream. And still, we leave half of it on the plate. The milk is returned to the kitchen and two cups of freshly brewed coffee are set before us.

We dawdle and talk and talk and dawdle until finally, we decide it is time to shop. But not before oohing and awing and wishing and wanting and touching and feeling the old world, turn of the century, elegance, and rust of the beautiful lobby of Hotel Emma.

Southerleigh Fine Food and Brewery