I'm in a tizzy....

Um.  I wet 'ems.

I may need to buy this just on general principle. 

Holy crap is that beautiful....

A killer time killer

I found this website trying to find a list of ages of Major League Stadiums.

I'm addicted. 

Totally. 

On the plus side, I know all the members of the 500 Home Run Club now. 

Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse - Miss Chicago Steakhouse for February

I checked.  The sign is not lit by angels.  I would have sworn it was.

Here I am, back from another Chicago Steakhouse.  I hope you've enjoyed the first two reviews.

Don't forget to click the links embedded.  They're part of the writing.   

Tonight, I'm gonna get sloppy.  I've got a whole bunch of (what I think are) killer one liners about the place.  I pondered writing only those, but instead, I will write what will inevitably be a LONG review. 

This month, Amy and I chose Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse in Rosemont.  There was a reason for this location, that I'll get into in another post, but we booked the table through OpenTable, and Gibsons was the one I picked for February. 

Let's get one thing out of the way right now.  I've ranted and raved about Peter Luger's Steakhouse in Williamsburg (Brooklyn), New York.  It was the best steak I'd ever eaten in my life.  (kids, this is foreshadowing...we learned about it last month...)


Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a new champion.


SPOILER ALERT!!!! 

Not anymore. 

I'm skipping ahead. 

I had been looking forward to our visit to Gibsons from the moment I decided to do this series.  I had heard nothing but praise for the place, and let's face it, I like steak.  A lot.  SO.  I gotta go check out that place. 

The praise was well deserved. 

We arrived at the restaurant about 20 minutes before our reserved time.  The Rosemont location is directly across the street from the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center, right in the alley that leads to the massive parking structure for a whole bunch of venues in the neighborhood.  Turned out that there is a motorcycle show in town right now, so the garage was full, there was LOTS of pedestrian traffic, and there were lots of upscale bike enthusiasts all around.  We found a spot to park, then made our way down the elevator to the street.  The weather in Chicago has warmed up a bit.  Last week it was mind-numbingly cold.  Tonight, on the way home it was 38 degrees.  So, our short one-block walk from the garage to the restaurant was tolerable.  From the exterior, Gibsons Rosemont is no great shakes.  It's a brick building with some visible window seating, and a green awning covering a revolving door entrance.  It is attached to the DoubleTree Suites, so the entrance and valet are actually in the circle drive of the hotel.   As we approached, I noticed a lot of people carrying shopping bags out of the place.  Gibsons is legendary for its portions.  It was obvious the legend was true as we got there.

"To Gibson's.  If only the steaks on the Death Star
were that good."  Maybe it would have improved Vader's
disposition?!  Oh yeah.  I geeked when I saw this
on the wall.  Geeked big time.

Upon entering the restaurant, one encounters the Host station center stage (theatre training never wears off), a coat check to one's right, and the bar to one's left.  Also, there are the requisite autographed photos from the celebrities who have dined at the place.  A couple caught my eye.  Adult actress Briana Banks was on the wall, proving once again that thanks to the internet, porn is indeed mainstream.  Also on the wall was an autographed photo of Richard LePalmentier.  He played Motti in the original "Star Wars" movie.  Who's Motti?  He's the guy Darth Vader force choked the shit out of, saying "I find your lack of faith disturbing" before Tarkin tells him to "Release him!"  Amy and I had decided that we would probably have a Diet Coke in the bar if they waited to seat us, but the place was full of bikers.  It looked like fun until the dude with the white shoes used the phone, then got on the bar and danced to "Tequila."  Anywho, it turned out we didn't need to go into the bar.  We were shown to our table immediately upon entering. 

As we were led through the wood paneled main dining room, I kept noticing empty tables.  As we made a turn I thought, "Sweet, we're going to a booth in the corner!"  Then we made another turn, and we were led to the window seating, in a front porch-y feeling place off the main dining room.  I heard the sound of a sad trombome.  I'm not complaining, but I'd have rather been seated elsewhere.  I like people watching, and the window is good for that, but this is a road that leads to a parking lot.  It just wasn't that great a view.  I also noted that there were tables set up in the doors.  That woulda bugged me a lot.  I'm glad we didn't wind up in one of those. 



Wanna see second prize?  Second prize is a set of steak knives. 
Third prize is you're fired.



We were greeted by our bus boy immediately, who filled our water glasses, confimed that there were only the two of us, and told us our server would be right with us.  A couple minutes later he returned with a plate of various breads.  There was an Italian bread, a raisin thing, and a nutty grainy bread.  I tried them all.  My favorite was the raisin thing bread, but it was nothing super special.  Just good bread.

A few moments later our server, Sandy, arrived.  An effusive, friendly, salt of the earth woman who was probably in her mid to upper 50's, she reminded me of my Aunt Pat.  I love my Aunt Pat, and I liked Sandy a whole bunch.  From her raving about each selection we made, to her multiple references to her father, or as she said, her "Pops," she was a delight.  Anyway.  We ordered our Diet Cokes.  No grunt, no sigh, she was perfectly content to not serve us alcohol.  Thumbs up for that.

Extra, extra!  Get your fresh menus!

We were given our menus.  A single page, printed on card stock, with the wine list on the back and the food on the front; after a few moments I realized the menu had today's date on it.  Nice touch.  Bad for the environment methinks, but it saves us a whole lot of time not having to listen to today's specials, and what sauce is on them, blah blah yadda yadda.  I hate that.  It's two minutes I don't need.  I hate having to pay attention as the server goes on about something which won't interest me even if it comes served on a naked woman.  Well, maybe THAT would interest me.  Yeah, you know what?  That would interest me.  But generally, barring the naked woman thing, if it ain't on the normal menu, I probably don't want it.  Some people like that, though.  At Gibsons you won't get it.  Wanna know what the specials are?  Look under "Special Entrees" on TODAY'S menu.  Amy and I pondered appetizers, salads, etc.  I was about to pull the trigger on a crab cake (having conquered my disdain for all things shellfish while in Baltimore last year), when I decided on the House Salad.  Amy ordered the Wedge Salad.   Having enjoyed the Thousand Island at Keefer's so much, I ordered that.  Sandy made a smiley face, and exclaimed that it was delicious and homemade, and that I would love it.   

While we were waiting on the salads, we got the meat tray brought to our table.  I never get tired of that.   They do it at Morton's, and they did it at Magnum's (moment of silence for the dear, departed Magnum's.  Thank you.).  Sandy showed us the house specialty steak.  The "W.R.'s Chicago Cut" Bone in Ribeye.  I had been pondering pretty hard about ordering a Porterhouse tonight, but that piece of raw meat that came out, the size of a medium sized foot and the thickness of a good sized phone book changed my mind.  I ordered it medium rare (HOORAY!  I remembered this time!).  Again, like at Keefer's, I was told what medium rare meant.  Hot red center, charred on the outside.  Sounds perfect.  Amy had decided she wanted the Grilled Norwegian Salmon, which came with a cucumber dish.  We ordered a baked potato on the side - which was big enough for two.  

No!  YOU had to have the BIIIIIG SALAD!

Sandy was right about the dressing on the salad.  I will say it was not as good as Keefer's Thousand Island, but I can't imagine I'll ever be able to replicate the experience I had with that.  Gibsons' Thousand Island is damned fine all on its own, however.  Amy's Wedge Salad was...um....massive.  It came to the table with a knife plunged into it, making it look as if her Blue Cheese Dressing were blood spewing from the wound.  OK.  That was gross.  Sorry.  Amy had never had Blue Cheese Dressing before tonight.  She enjoyed it.  She finished about two-thirds of her salad. 

Amy and I have enjoyed this little project of mine thus far for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it gets us out of the house, with no kids, and we just get to enjoy each other's company.  Talking over our salads made them last long enough that we didn't wait too long between finishing them and our entrees arriving.  Getting to talk with my wife is a rare treat.  She may not agree, but I enjoy the hell out of it. 

Now I get gooey.  Had angels descended from the heavens bearing my steak to me on a beam of sunlight, I'm not sure that would have been enough fanfare for what I was about to eat.  I'm getting ahead a bit again.  I'll go normal, then hit hyperbole again.  Our food arrived.  The potato was as huge as promised, and Sandy cut it into two halves.  She then went to a secret spot on the bus station by our table and fetched the butter.  She said that she stowed her butter there because the butter that comes from the kitchen is still too cold and hard as a brick.  Nice.  Nice.  Nice.  I LOVE this woman.  Amy's salmon was placed in front of her.  Right away, you could see the grill marks, which meant that there was going to be a crispness to it. 

It had to descend from God's crib first.

Then.My.Steak.Arrived. 

Charred to perfection, Sandy asked me to cut it open to make sure it was cooked to my liking.  I went to do so, and watched the way the steak moved when I put my fork on it.  I informed Sandy that it wasn't necessary for me to cut it.  I knew by the way I could compress the steak a little that it was cooked the way I wanted it.  She said, "Oh, you're one of those people."  She actually meant it as a compliment.  I think.  Anyway, yes, I am one of those people.  I know the elasticity of steak as it is cooked, and what it should feel like at certain temperatures.  Sue me.  My steak looked perfect.  I had no idea what I was in for when I tried it, but it sure looked great. 

There is something you should know about Gibsons' steak.  They have their own classification with the USDA.  There is Prime.  Then, there is Gibsons Prime.  I don't know if that is actually superior, but the USDA actually has a certifcation program only for Gibsons.  That means that not only do Gibsons' people pick the beef, but the US government does as well.  Nice.  Sandy informed us all the beef is raised in Minnesota, and that it is all black angus, dry aged for 45 (FORTY FIVE?!!!) days.  It is corn fed the last 4 months of its life, and while that is not natural for beef, it makes it damned tasty.  Corn fed beef is a steakhouse standard around Chicago. 

I'm getting away from the point.  The Steak.  That's where I was headed. 

But first, Amy's salmon.  The salmon was very flaky and light.  It had been grilled, and had a nice crispness on the outside, while tender on the inside.  Amy enjoyed it, but stated it was not the best salmon she had ever eaten.  She ate one bite of the cucumber thing.  It was warm and freshly pickled (I see you met my ex wife..).  She said she wished she had ordered the steak.

It's out of focus, because God doesn't want us to reverse engineer it.

OK.  No more stalling.  The Steak.

Tonight I touched the Hand of God.  It is found in the Ribeye Steak at Gibsons.  The first bite was delicious.  Charred to a crisp on the outside, the steak was soft and tender, almost silky on the inside.  Each morsel just made me want to eat the rest that much faster.  I stopped after about three bites, and about 8 "O Faces," and decided I'd better finish my half of the potato, because I didn't want ANYTHING interfering with the steak.  Each bite I ate made me spew forth another "Oh my GOD."  I looked at Amy and said, "You know the only thing that would make this better?"  And she said, "What?"  To which I replied, "Another steak, exactly like this one, right next to it, for when I finish this one."  Oh my GOD.  Oh my GOD.  I'm still doing it.  I've had lots of great steak.  I've never had a better one than the one I ate tonight at Gibsons.  Ever.  It's going to make the next 10 months of doing this difficult, because I may always have that thing in the back of my mind saying, "Boy, Gene and Georgetti is great, but MAN, I wish I was at Gibsons tonight!" 

Amy kept mentioning that she wished she had ordered the steak.  I told her I wished she had too, because then I could eat what she didn't finish.  Oh my GOD.  I'll stop.  Oh my GOD! 

A couple of the one liners I thought of while eating the steak (besides the Hand of God thing, the second steak thing, and wishing I had Amy's leftovers to eat thing):

A fine set of accomplishments.

"I'll never brush these teeth again." 

"Had Tom Edison tried this, I'll bet his headstone would read "Inventor of the lightbulb, AND ate at Gibsons." 

"I think I need a cigarette." 

Oh my GOD. 

Whew.  This is a long review. 

Next came the desserts.  For those of you unfamiliar with Gibsons' desserts, the massive portion thing really takes root here.  The menu was presented to us and there was an item titled "The Meaning of Life."  I was REAL tempted to order that, but it had almonds in it, and I'm just not that big a fan.  We settled on the Chocolate Mousse Pie, and in the interim, I had a cup of coffee. 

This pie is bigger than either of our children were at birth.

The pie arrived.  Again, it was plunged through with a knife.  It was also the size of half a cinder block.  No bullshit.  It was at least 8" cubed.  Amy's eyes bulged out when it arrived at the table.  She then uttered the first of at least 8 "That's what she said" jokes that related to the dessert when she said, "Oh my God, that thing is huge!"  The last of the bunch was when she said, "That was more than I could handle."  We ate about half of our dessert.  It was a bittersweet chocolate pie, with an Oreo cookie crust.  It was delicious.  And huge.  Did I mention that it was huge?  There's half of it in our fridge right now, waiting to be eaten on a daily basis in normal human size portions over the next 6 months. 

Whew. 

A couple of other notes.  Our bus boy was magnificent.  Amy dropped her fork at one point while eating, and while she tried be inconspicuous about it, the bus boy noticed, didn't make a scene and replaced her fork before she ate the next bite. 

The bathrooms have attendants.  Always a little weird, but I do like it.

The restaurant is very nice in terms of interior design.  I fainted over the food, so that's what I focused on tonight.   

You get huge portions.  Did I mention that? 

The birthday greeting is from the male servers only, and is very funny.  There were at least 4 during the course of our meal.


To wrap up:  Gibsons' steak is amazing.  Amazing.  We got out of the place for $150, tip included, but Amy's entree was relatively inexpensive.  Had she ordered steak, we were looking at $180.  Worth every penny.  I knew I was going to like taking on this project.  Gibsons reminded me why tonight. 

NEXT MONTH:  Morton's.  (it's my birthday, and I'm a VIP - gotta go to my "home base")

Pictured:  One fat guy with a belly full of Heaven and his bride.