The Icy, Pricey Ice Box Cafe—A Review & Pictures
Ever on the look-out for quality eats on South Beach, my travels took me this time to the Ice Box Cafe at 1657 Lincoln Road, just around the corner from Lincoln Road. I arrived around 3:45 pm on a Saturday afternoon.
From the look of things, it promised to be a pleasant experience: it was a high-ceilinged establishment with stark white walls and prominent front windows that allowed the afternoon sunlight to filter through at just the right intensity. It was filled to about half-capacity and had a buzzing atmosphere. The food on neighboring tables looked appetizing, the decor was minimalist and elegant, and right on the front window was an endorsement from Oprah: “The Best Cake in America.†It looked like it was going to be the perfect place to grab a late lunch. Unfortunately, however, looks can be deceiving and Oprah can’t be trusted. I stepped inside, noticing a sign nearby that said “please wait to be seated.†So I did. I stood there for several minutes, as servers brushed by, to and fro, averting eye contact. There was nary a host to be seen. Understanding the value of patience, I waited for someone to approach me, taking the opportunity to snap a few photos in the meantime. They would have to notice me eventually, right? Wrong. About 10 minutes later, I went up to the counter, and was able to get the attention of one of the servers, Jackie, a tall, corpulent blonde with a certain South American-German kind of vibe. I asked if there was a particular place one was supposed to stand to be seated, because I’d been standing there waiting for about 10 minutes. I don’t know if I’d broken a cardinal rule by pointing this out, or if the 18% pre-included tip just makes them feel less inspired; there were no apologies, no explanations, just a terse “Do you want to sit inside or outside? “It doesn’t matter,†I smiled. I wanted to show her that I was flexible and that I really wasn’t such a difficult guy. “You can sit anywhere you want,†she said nonchalantly. So, I took a seat inside, toward the back. And I waited even longer. It wasn’t that they were being unfriendly to everybody. There were some apparent regulars that the servers stopped to make conversation with, patting the heads of their exotic children. Maybe I just looked like an expendable tourist from Omaha with my camera.
After about five minutes, someone dropped off a menu, with a couple of printed out pages of some rather pricey selections. Sparkling wine was $10 a glass; champagne was $15. Knowing Miami Beach’s difficulty with the concept of refillable iced tea, I opted for a pitcher of iced green tea with mint for $5, which turned out to be surprisingly flavorless. I would have crushed the mint leaves into the tea, but they were impossible to reach without getting your arm stuck in the pitcher.
A while later, Jackie bellowed to me that she would be there “right awayâ€â€”and then promptly disappeared. Fortunately, someone happened by a while later and took my order. Apparently, the waiters here share their stations. The lunch menu items were mostly of the sandwich and salad variety, along with a little Mexican breakfast corner and some omelets. Feeling a little hungry, I ordered the $15 Kobe burger, which came with arugula salad on the side. The prices seemed a little high for a cafe, even one with stark white walls and exposed ductwork, but hey….it’s South Beach. The food, what there was of it, took another 20 minutes to arrive. Jackie brought it over and said, “Your Kahhhbay?†It consisted of a burger so small that it would make Clara Peller scream “Where’s the beef?â€. According to the staff, it was 8 ounces, though some of it had undoubtedly evaporated during the cooking process; moreover, it looked as though it had been grilled on an outdoor barbecue. Nonetheless, I have to admit it was tasty enough once you penetrated the charred exterior—and it was thick, kind of like a flattened meatball. Other than the melted Gouda cheese and some crushed red peppers, there was nothing on the burger, nor was anything offered, aside from catsup.
Usually in restaurants offering menu items in the $20 range, a server stops by your table a few minutes into your meal to ask you how everything is. This wasn’t the case at the Ice Box Cafe, where the service was leaving me frigid. After I finished, a bus person cleared away my plate and I waited again for several minutes. Jackie attended to some nearby tables and quickly made eye contact with me, but then just as quickly looked away. Finally she came by and said, “Do you want the check? Or do you want dessert?†I said I’d like dessert and she asked me what I wanted. I told her I would need to see a dessert menu. She explained that they didn’t have one, that the customers usually walked over to the display case by the counter and selected what they wanted. So I did. Only about half the cakes were actually labeled. But, recognizing my favorite, carrot cake, I chose that one. At this point, I decided to tell Jackie that I was writing a review of their restaurant and gave her my card. Her demeanor changed instantly. “One suggestion,†she said. “If you want to eat here, don’t come at this time of day, because it’s our shift change.†Apparently, the shift on Saturday changes at 4 pm, though for some reason it was getting on to 5 and Jackie was still here. I asked if there was a host, and she said that he didn’t work Saturdays. The dessert arrived much faster than my meal had. Jackie even offered some lemon syrup for my tea, although I hadn’t mentioned how flavorless it was. The cake turned out to be as flavorless as the tea; the frosting, rather than the traditional creamed cheese, was something similar to Cool Whip, while the cake itself was rather dry and bland. I was starting to lose confidence in Oprah’s culinary taste. Fortunately, Jackie, without any prompting, comped my $6 dessert because I’d had to wait. Jackie’s final disappearing act came on the check, which listed only Annette as my server and Erika as the cashier.
Total damage for my burger and drink, including tax and pre-included 18% tip: $25.40. You need to shave your head, wear black and leave the camera at home before venturing out to some of the local haunts. Otherwise, you might as well be wearing an “I’m with stupid” t-shirt. See more pictures of Ice Box Cafe.
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22 Comments on"The Icy, Pricey Ice Box Cafe—A Review & Pictures"
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Gus says:
Doug, sorry you got the cold sholder.
The customer service on Lincoln Road is notoriously bad.
Hat Tip to Jackie for giving us the Tip Of The Day:
“If you want to eat here, don’t come at this time of day, because it’s our shift change.â€
The servers and kitchen staff stop caring, at the end of the shift.
Most likely, Jackie had been working since 10am, and she might even have been pulling a double shift.
I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but I would have given them your card when you were waiting at the door.
The burger looked small. Could you have substituted the salad for fries?
Posted on 02/24/2009 at 5:49 AM