The crispy fish tacos are among South of Temperance's more successful offerings. Despite its menu failings, the busy eatery boasts friendly staff and an infectious energy.
The best thing on the menu at South of Temperance (and, at $25, the second-most expensive) is the spiced rubbed beef short rib. Slow-braised in Tankhouse ale until it's as tender as a mash note and twice as hot, the sizeable rib is sauced with a sticky reduction of its own dark braising liquid and served with vegetable-garnished quinoa.
It's a bit salty and the quinoa's a little flat, but there's an honest homemade quality to it and that's welcome in any restaurant, especially one as big and busy as this.
At lunch the other day, the friendly hostess - uniformed like the rest of the almost all-female staff in a Lululemon LBD - apologetically explained that there would be a 45-minute wait for a table. Office workers in blue striped shirts and loosened ties occupied every seat of the vast patio. At tall tables beneath the exposed ductwork inside, colleagues got separate bills and consulted their devices. A few tourists, sunglasses perched on their foreheads, dove into big bowls of salad. Salesmen perched at the bar beneath flat-screen TVs and flirted with the bartender, who called them by name and instinctively knew when they wanted another. The mood was festive and the energy infectious.
The food has that same unhinged quality to it.
For every braised short rib, for instance, there's an Adelaide Street Slider. Served three to a plate on tiny dense buns with a sweaty little slice of cheddar cheese and dollop of cherry tomato confit on each one, the grubby little burgers are outrageously bad. Somehow, the soaking wet meat (it has the consistency of wet hamster-cage liner) is not sufficiently damp to counteract the alum dryness of the bun. No visible condiments alleviate the unyielding texture and the flavour (beyond a vaguely metallic tang) is AWOL.
After that fiasco, it's a genuine shock to be presented with a totally respectable Moroccan chicken curry. What makes it Moroccan is anybody's guest - too much turmeric? - but it's tasty and complex and the chicken is nicely cooked. Although the rice is a mess (dry and clumped together) and the yogurt garnish is inexplicably hot (not spicy, but literally hot, suggesting microwaving), it's a veritable triumph in the wake of those sliders.
One of the restaurant's most charming - and irritating - idiosyncrasies is a tendency to throw around culinary terms that bear no relation to their actual meaning. "Moroccan curry" is one example. Another is the server's need to explain that the tuna ceviche is raw. This would be half true: Ceviche is traditionally built around raw fish, but the brief marinade in acidic citrus juice essentially cooks it - if in fact it is ceviche. The dish that appears at S of T is seared tuna and in no way related to that classic dish. Yes, the thick rare slices of fish have a beautiful deep red centre, but they aren't raw. Labels aside, it's actually a pretty good dish, helped immeasurably by a delicious if overdressed mango-jicama slaw.
Similarly, it is only in the loosest and most generic sense that the flatbread called naan on this menu bears any relation to actual naan bread. It is to naan what Gallo white zinfandel (available by the glass) is to Nicholas Feuillatte rosé brut (available by the bottle). Here, the doughy, bland bread is pressed into action as a base for bruschetta and as the foundation for a painfully dull pizza topped with generic chorizo, mozzarella, Bermuda onions and basil.
The kitchen rallies once again, though, with a trio of crispy fish tacos garnished with avocado crema, grilled pineapple and, for some reason, salad greens. There's also more of that delicious jicama slaw and a bold, fiery chipotle sauce that is served on the side and in truth is too intense for the tacos but a spunky move nonetheless.
One simple fix would elevate the tacos from pretty good to worth-going-back-for: Replace the raw-tasting flour tortillas with corn ones from La Tortilleria, an excellent Toronto producer whose presence would give credence to the restaurant's claim of a "local," market-inspired approach.
There is greater consistency on the dessert carte than in appetizers and mains, but that means dishes like the double lemon tart (sweet and bright) and the hazelnut brownie (dense and dark) are content to be just okay.
Despite its flaws, there is something about South of Temperance that, if not quite charming, is at least likeable. As wild and erratic as the restaurant is, it can't be accused of lacking personality. And it'll undoubtedly keep packing them in so long as that is the case.