Southside Restaurant: The Execution Was Cancelled — Dinner Was Not
A Strawberry Toast Review of Southside Reseteraunnt
🌧️ The Journey (Or: A Rainy Pilgrimage to the Guillotine)
It was a dark and stormy night — not metaphorically, but literally. Rain tapped at the windshield with the persistence of a waiter who’s already asked if you're ready to order, twice. I was deep in debate with myself: do I stay in bed with something warm and beige, or do I surrender to the $40 per person non-refundable booking fee?
That booking fee didn’t loom like a simple cloud — no.
It was a French guillotine. Heavy. Cold. Inevitable. One swift drop, and I’d be $120 poorer, with nothing to show for it but regret and possibly soggy dumplings.
So we ventured out. Three of us. Tired. Damp. Mildly annoyed.
As expected, there was no parking nearby — because when is there ever? We walked in single file, umbrellas raised, shoes squelching with each step. We resembled a weary line-up of Les Misérables extras, dragging ourselves through the drizzle. And yet, we marched on. Because food was the mission.
🐒The Vibe (Or: Welcome to the Jungle... Atrium Edition)
Google Maps calmly announced, “You have arrived.” But as I scanned the surroundings, I couldn’t help but think — had I?
All I saw was a softly glowing central bar tucked under a concrete overpass, framed by lush greenery and shimmering puddles. The scene felt plucked from a moody art film — all misty rain, dark brick, and jungle-like ferns lit from beneath.
Southside transforms its concrete-and-steel skeleton into something atmospheric. It’s like someone built a rainforest retreat under a bridge and filled it with ambient lighting, cocktail music, and very good intentions.
Eventually, a staff member noticed us standing there, lost and loitering like confused Sims. They kindly pointed us to the hostess. Unsurprisingly, our table was outside — but I wasn’t about to sacrifice warmth and atmosphere.
I negotiated. I reasoned. I promised lightning-fast eating and a bill padded with orders. And somehow, it worked.
We were ushered into the glass-walled atrium. The air was thick and humid from the rain, the music low and pulsing, the scent of sesame oil and citrus floating gently through the air.
It felt like dining in a greenhouse-turned-cocktail-lounge — part tropical fantasy, part urban chic. I may have been slightly damp, slightly confused, but I was undeniably intrigued.
🥢The Food (Or: 334 Days Since My Last Dim Sum)
Let’s talk about the food — because honestly, that’s what this night was always about.
🥟 Dumpling Drama
It’s been approximately 334 days since I went gluten- and dairy-free — not that I’m counting or anything. And during that time, dumplings have been the unattainable dream. The unrequited love. The lost flame.
So when I saw GF next to the dim sum items on the menu — bold, flirtatious, full of promise — I froze. I checked once. Then again. I practically squinted to make sure it wasn’t a humidity-induced illusion.
But it was real. And I ordered both.
Spring Veg Jade Crystal Har Gow (DF, GF, Vegan)
There were no prawns, of course — it’s vegan — but this dumpling was a celebration of cabbage and its underrated cousins. The jade-green wrapper was paper-thin and almost translucent, offering a peek at the garden tucked inside.
The filling was vibrant and fresh — lightly seasoned with a touch of umami and a delightful crunch from black fungus. Each bite felt like it had just been plucked from the soil and kissed by steam.
Verdict: A glow-up for vegetables — elegant, subtle, and beautifully green.
Lobster, Prawn & Chive Har Gow, Caviar (DF, GFO)
I had high hopes for this one — the name alone sounded like a celebration. But the flavour didn’t quite live up to the label. I couldn’t taste the lobster or the chive, and what I got instead was a nice, albeit generic, dumpling experience.
It was a stunning shade of blue, which made for a dramatic entrance on the table, but maybe that was the problem. It looked better than it tasted. And apparently, science says blue isn’t an appetising colour for food — now I believe it.
Verdict: Great on camera, forgettable on the tongue.
🍖 Mains of Mild Intrigue
North QLD Coral Trout, Ginger & Shallot, Sea Herbs (GF, DF)
I didn’t get around to trying this myself, but I trust the table’s consensus. It was fine. Pretty on the plate, but ultimately didn’t pack the flavour punch one might expect. Just... there.
Verdict: Neutral vibes. Gorgeous but unmemorable.
Beef Short Rib 'Three Cup' Style, Chimichurri, Basil (GF, DF)
This dish, on the other hand, was a revelation. The beef was meltingly tender, the fat distribution sublime. It practically fell apart on the fork and melted in the mouth.
The chimichurri added a bright, garlicky kick, while the basil brought in a touch of herbal sweetness. I didn’t quite get the traditional Taiwanese “three cup” flavour — but then again, it didn’t specify which three cups, so who’s to say?
Verdict: Juicy, bold, and perfectly executed. A winner.
🍚 Carbohydrate Crisis (Resolved)
Earlier that day, I had been in an all-out internal debate about which carb dish to order. I eventually landed on the Char Kway Teow — partly because gluten-free versions are rare, and partly because it came with prosciutto. Yes, prosciutto. The fusion intrigued me.
But before our dishes even arrived, the table next to us was served the Wagyu Truffle Fried Rice, and the smell wafted across like a siren song. One inhale and we knew — we needed it.
We flagged our server down with the urgency of people who had just smelled their soulmate.
Wagyu Truffle Fried Rice, Roast Peppercorn (GF, DF)
This was the moment of the night. The star. The dish that made everything else pause.
The truffle aroma hit before the bowl landed. It was rich, earthy, and almost overwhelming — in the best way. As we reached for our cameras, our mouths were already watering.
The rice was cooked just right — not oily, perfectly seasoned. The wagyu was tender, buttery, and generous. Spring onions and peas added a pop of brightness that cut through the decadence.
Verdict: Unanimously adored. The stuff of carb dreams.
Char Kway Teow, Moreton Bay Bug, King Prawn, Prosciutto (GF Option, DF)
Now, this was still a good dish. The wok hei was there, the noodles were chewy, and the seafood was fresh. But after the fried rice? It was hard to shine.
Still, I appreciated the playful fusion — the Italian-meets-Hong-Kong energy was kind of fun. Honestly, I might try recreating it in my own kitchen one day.
Verdict: Tasty and creative, but overshadowed by its flashier tablemate.
🥦 Veggie Side Quests
Crispy Salt & Pepper Tofu, Saltbush, Wakame (GF, DF, Vegan)
This was a bit of a letdown. The tofu was bland and the coating was tough — not in a crispy way, but in a jaw workout way. It just didn’t quite deliver that ideal tofu texture contrast.
Verdict: Sadly, a pass from me.
Sichuan Pickled Vegetables, Black Sesame (GF, DF, Vegan)
These were a delightful surprise. Tangy, crunchy, and bright — they refreshed the palate between bites of richer dishes and kept the meal feeling light and balanced.
Verdict: A hidden gem. Zingy, crunchy, palate-cleansing perfection.
Steamed Chinese Greens, Soy Glaze, Fried Garlic (GF, DF, Vegan Option)
The humble hero of many a Chinese meal. This dish was simple, reliable, and beautifully plated in a tight little cube that looked like it belonged in an architectural magazine.
Verdict: Classic, clean, and visually satisfying.
Final Crumb 🍚
This was a fun night — chaotic, damp, and deeply satisfying.
Absolutely worth the journey through the rain and the emotional turbulence of indecision. When I return, I already know what I’m getting: one full serve of the Spring Veg Jade dumplings just for me, and one full bowl of Wagyu Truffle Fried Rice — no sharing. Those two were standout performers in a lineup of worthy contenders.
And as we trudged back to the car, umbrella in hand and bellies full, I couldn’t help but think — we did it. The mission was complete. The guillotine never dropped 🔪🔪🔪.
In the end, there was no execution.
Only delicious salvation.
