I’ve gotten better service at the DIY froyo place off South Street than I did at SoWe. One Saturday night, I made a reservation for 8:15. The table wasn’t ready then, so our party of four was ushered outside, where we waited five minutes for a server, and then another 10 minutes for the drinks she forgot to bring us. The cocktails were comped, which almost made up for the fact that it was nearly 9 p.m. when we were finally seated—at a hastily arranged table outside the dining room, next to the bar, with broken hinges that kept knocking big flanks of wood against our knees. After the move, our food was brought out at random. My mussels and mac-and-cheese gratin were delivered simultaneously, while my friend’s starter soup came after her tuna tartare. Oh, and then our waiter decided to argue with us when we raised objections. If the food had been exceptional, the nonstop horrific service might have been forgiven. Alas, it was not.
First appeared in the December, 2013 issue of Philadelphia magazine.