Serafina Restaurant

Almost every weekend, I walk by people indulging in mimosas and bellinis served out of champagne flutes under the yellow awning of Serafina restaurant. Regardless of whether it’s the ambiance or the alcohol, the diners appear to be enjoying themselves. So, on my half birthday I decided to celebrate this joyous occasion over brunch with my brother under the yellow Serafina awning.

The brunch menu, which “includes your choice of bloody mary, mimosa, bellini,

coffee or tea” and a bread basket, has the basic brunch necessities: pancakes, omelet, eggs Benedict, etc. The only items on the menu that have an up-charge from the $20 flat fee are the eggs with caviar and the “steak and fabulous eggs,” “fabulous” being “eggs any style” – sounds thrilling.

I ordered the “three salmon benedict” and my brother ordered an orange juice. My brother, in an attempt to remind the server that I also get my choice of a beverage, prompted our frazzled waiter to interrupt by asking if I wanted potatoes or fries. The two options sounded like one of the same, so I went with potato to see what I’d end up with. The waiter scurried off without collecting our menus and without asking what “included” beverage I would like.

After another long while of waiting, a second server came to take our order. My brother and I shot each other a look, questioning whether it would raise our odds of actually getting any food if we ordered again, but we decided to take a gamble and place our bets on the first waiter.

I was hesitant to be the negative one, but after about another ten minutes of waiting I finally said to my brother, “I thought with ordering the salmon benedict I was supposed to get a bread basket.” My brother quickly responded, “I thought with ordering an orange juice I was supposed to get an orange juice.” Touché.

My brother then signaled to server #2 who then got the attention of a nearby busboy who then ran right out of the restaurant and across the street. A couple minutes later, the busboy reappeared with what looked like a stolen breadbasket from the brasserie across the street.

My “basket of freshly made breads and muffins” was composed of a small, stale corn muffin and a dried out croissant. We of course had no plates, silverware, or napkins to enjoy the stolen spread, and, because the entire staff of Serafina was M.I.A., my brother got up and scoured the waiter station for plates.

Once he sat back down, my salmon benedict arrived, sans my brother’s orange juice. Shortly after waiter #1 finished explaining that the bar tender was currently squeezing it, waiter number #2 came to alert us that the juice machine was broken, so my brother just asked for a water. It never came.

As I was just about finished, a third server arrived with another plate. “Salmon benedict?” “Yep,” I said, “I’m eating it right now.” The server was confused. My brother and I weren’t.

I don’t suppose there was a moment during the meal when anyone would have noticed if my brother and I just got up and left. Saturday morning brunch at Serafina was the most disappointing meal I have had since I have been in New York City. So, congratulations Serafina on being a memorable experience in the worst possible way.

SERAFINA BROADWAY

210 West 55th St. NYC 10019 Tel: 212 315 1700