Oh, How Sweet It Is! (Guest blogger - Amy Calhoun)

Randy and I first discovered The Langham Hotel's chocolate buffet while watching a show on the Travel Channel. After viewing the segment, I knew I would be making the trip with Randy on his Boston baseball pilgrimage just so I could indulge in this amazing spread of my favorite food ... CHOCOLATE!



Yes, our actual wedding cake.



While Randy is big on steak, I am a huge fan of chocolate. It's a rare day that I don't have some form of chocolate -- chocolate in my coffee, chocolate milk, candy, cookies, cake ... well, you get the picture. Even our wedding cake was chocolate.

Stepping into Cafe Fleuri's Chocolate Bar was like walking into Willy Wonka's chocolate factory only a bit more adult and sophisticated. (and with smaller portions) A chocolate fountain graced the center of the buffet and was surrounded by 8 additional tables all laden with sugary goodness. I was like a kid in a candy store...literally!



This was perhaps the most decadent experience I have ever had. Although I have participated at the midnight buffet on a couple cruise ships, this spread was superior in quality and attention to detail. Everything was beautifully displayed and each dessert was labeled  - even with possible food allergens.

A sampling of the many desserts.

Each year the chef selects a different theme for Cafe Fleuri's Chocolate Bar. This season the chef has focused on the five elements of taste: salty, sour, bitter, sweet and savory. Before diving into the selections our waiter brought us water and coffee. After eating that many sweets, coffee or tea is a must.

I came prepared to sample. Being part of the clean plate club was not going to happen. I wanted to try as many desserts as I possibly could. Most servings are bite-size or a little larger. On my first go around, I filled 3 plates with 15 different desserts. Even with bite-size servings, I was still only sampling for flavor.

Kid in a candy store!

My first sampling was a hand-rolled chocolate truffle dusted with raspberry infused powdered sugar. The liquid chocolate in the center was smooth, creamy and bitterly rich. YUM! I was off to a fantastic start. My next taste had me a bit nervous - a combination of chocolate and pumpkin. I enjoy both of these flavors separately but couldn't really imagine they would taste good together. I was wrong. Utilizing very little spice, the pumpkin was just a slight undertone to the chocolate. I ate all of this and will be searching recipes to figure out how to make something similar for Thanksgiving this year.

I have two favorite chocolate flavor combinations - chocolate and peanut butter along with chocolate and raspberry. Yes, each of those combinations were available. The Peanut Crunch Cake layers salty peanuts with chocolate cake and chocolate mousse. Yes, very good with the crunch of the peanuts not being something you would expect in a cake. The layered chocolate cake, chocolate mousse and raspberry was fabulous as was the raspberry whipped mousse with a chocolate crust. These five items were my favorites.

Smoked cake

Randy had me try a bite of cake he had grabbed. Now this falls into the savory category. Here is the description straight from the menu: flourless chocolate cake made with house-smoked bittersweet chocolate  House-smoked bittersweet chocolate - unique to the taste buds to say the least. My vote is still out on this one. My initial thought was that there was bacon in the cake. I'm glad I tasted it, but I wouldn't want to eat a whole piece of smoked cake.

Of course I had a chocolate dipped strawberry and I drenched fruit and pretzels in the chocolate fountain. Holding food on a skewer and letting chocolate shower over it is just fun. I tasted a dense chocolate brownie, a white chocolate mousse with a strawberry gel, chocolate mousse with passion fruit, cannoli, Boston creme cake, a chocolate filled tart and a few other items.

There were two service stations as well. One was making chocolate crapes and the other served ice cream with your selection of mix-ins (I skipped the ice cream since I had done that before at Cold Stone Creamery). There was a cotton candy machine and an array of cookies, brownies and rice krispie treats. Unfortunately, no chocolate soup on the menu this year. At my best guess, I would say this buffet offers more than 50 different items.

Nearing the end of this chocolate extravaganza, I had another skewer of chocolate dipped pineapple and Randy grabbed a shot glass of chocolate liquid. He downed the liquid and told me to go get two more - one for each of us. We toasted each other and I downed what I was expecting to be chocolate milk. It was a chocolate liquid infused with cinnamon. I don't know if it was milk but that cinnamon took me by surprise. It was a delightful topper for the end of our "tour de chocolate."

If you are ever in Boston on a Saturday, I recommend  you check out Cafe Fleuri. Even the locals come here. There was at least one birthday party seated near us and a baby or bridal shower seated across the way. Plan to spend a minimum of an hour and take little bites so you can try as many desserts as you can possibly handle. And if you are wondering if I over did it and am off chocolate for awhile ... nope, I've had a little bit of chocolate everyday since arriving back home.

RANDY'S EDIT:  One note of caution - it's pricey.  Really pricey.  It's chocolate.  Get over it....

Thanks for reading! - Amy

Amy and Randy at Cafe Fleuri

Opening night....

Tonight is opening night for "1776."  I don't have time to write more right now, so I'm going to be mercifully brief. 

This show will always be my favorite. 

Always.

It's also special...because this is the first time my son will see his daddy act. 



Come see it if you have the chance.

Daniel Baggott-Miller as Dr. Benjamin Franklin, Sean Ogren as John Adams,
the author as Thomas Jefferson and Kimberly Baker as Martha Jefferson.

Rosebud Steakhouse - Miss Chicago Steakhouse for May



Another month, another big ol' steak.  I love my life....



Loyal readers:  Thank you so much for being part of this project.  I've had a ton of fun doing it, and a ton of fun hearing from a few of you about how much you enjoy it. 

As I pointed out in the comments section last month:  I'm on no payroll with this.  I do this for fun, for entertainment, and ultimately, for some date nights with my wife. 

Previously, I've written on Joe's, Keefer's, Gibsons, Morton's and David Burke's Primehouse. 

This is Rosebud Steakhouse when it's not pouring down rain.  And dark. 

This month we visited Rosebud Steakhouse on Walton.  Right behind the Drake Hotel.  If you don't know where the Drake is, you don't know Chicago.  Rosebud is a chain of restaurants, most of which serve Italian food.  There are two steakhouses in the family, and both have a solid reputation around town, and are highly reviewed.

This month we brought another couple with us.  This was a first on this project, but it won't be the last time it happens.  Both June and July will feature people other than ourselves dining.  Plus.  I'm not sure how this is going to work yet - but watch this blog for an announcement regarding an essay contest I'm going to run to dine as our guests at Wildfire in September.  More to come on that, so don't get too excited.  Yet. 

Enough of the warm up.  Kinda.  Camera couldn't take good pictures.  Too dark.  Most of the images are borrowed.

Let's get into the story. 

Saturday in Chicago was rainy, cold and miserable.  The Cubs were playing the Giants that NIGHT (this is a rare thing - a night game at Wrigley on a Saturday).  Our friends, (for anonymity's sake we'll call them) Georg and Amalia, live on Southport, relatively close to Wrigley.  That being the case, our departure time bumped up by half an hour, because we needed to get to their neighborhood in time to make our reservations.  We left our house at 4:30.  This made for a long drive, and a relatively cranky driver.  As can be expected, we were late getting to their house, which made us late getting to the restaurant.  We arrived at 6:45 for our 6:30 reservations.  I'm an enigma when it comes to timely arrivals.  With work events I tend to leave myself JUST the exact amount of time I need to travel, which inevitably leads to being late, but for personal things, I'm the guy who tries to get there 15 minutes early.  Unless it's family.  In which case, it's about a 50-50 shot on whether or not we'll be late. 
 

Oh yeah, NOW I know where the Drake is....



Getting away from the point.  We pulled up (in the rain) to the Rosebud Steakhouse 15 minutes late for our reservation.  We used the valet service for the ol' minivan.  Pulling up to the restaurant, Georg observed, "Boy, if you didn't know this place was here, you'd never find it."  Its location is in a tricky spot.  It's two blocks north of the Hancock Tower, and two blocks east of Michigan.  It's on a one way street heading west, and the area doesn't exactly get a lot of traffic.  You have to know it's there, or you won't ever see it.  There are still a whole lot of blocks downtown where you can cross the street without worrying, most of them between Michigan and Lake Shore Drive.  This is one of them. 

Arriving in the rain led to us hurrying inside.  There was a green awning in front - apparently this is standard issue to steakhouses.  It's kind of like the three balls in front of a pawn shop.  Once in, we were greeted by the Maitre'd station just inside from an entry vestibule.  There were plenty of empty tables when we arrived, so I got over the being late thing, but on the way out, the place was filled, including the entry vestibule.  They seem to do a fairly brisk business.

Looking around the place I was immediately struck by its intimacy.  By "its intimacy" - I mean its smallness.  There couldn't have been more than 20 tables in the whole place, and there was a bar (with no patrons) taking up half the back of the restaurant.  The restaurant was a mixture of dark woods and cream paint.  There were various books on the wall, used for decoration and nothing more (for a while the now closed Cafe Wheaton had a copy of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous on the wall.  I always thought that was inappropriate, yet funny at the same time...).   The light fixtures are large alabaster bowls.  Again, most of this is standard issue steakhouse stuff. 

One of the few pictures that turned out OK.  This was OUR particular
bread basket.  The butter has a hint of honey.  Tasty stuff in here....

We were shown to our table immediately, a small table for 4 near the back, and were presented with a big basket of various breads and our menus.  There is an article about the breads at Rosebud here.  Try the pretzel roll.  It's fantastic.  The menus are printed horizontally on card stock, about 8" x 16" and placed in a leather, non-folding board.  I noted that they were "unwieldy."  I should have followed that with, "And the server is standing behind me right now, right?"  Because you know that's what happened.  She asked if I had trouble with it.  Never fails.  We got past my faux pas, and we were introduced to her.  Her name was Mary, and she was dressed in a full tuxedo.  I do like that a lot.  It's a touch of class that shows the management cares about the details.  Anyway, Mary welcomed us, asked us for drink orders (no pushing of alcohol - nice), and gave us a little bit to go over the menus. 

As with all of these reviews, I familiarize myself with the menu weeks in advance.  So, when it comes time to order things, I already know what I'm having.  I do like to ask what the house specialty is, but beyond that, I pretty much know what I want before I enter.  Saturday night we were perusing the appetizers, and I mentioned that in my research, Rosebud has a reputation as having the best burgers in Chicago.  (Sorry Marc L., turns out I was wrong about that being Gibsons...)  Well.  One of the things on the appetizer menu was a plate of 2 oz. Mini Burgers with 1000 Island Dressing, Cheese, Carmelized Onion and Pickles.  A plate of those was ordered (3 burgers - Amy decided she didn't want one) and a plate of Bacon Wrapped Scallops was ordered as well (3 scallops again - Georg and I weren't too hip on them - I don't like seafood - but decided we'd split one for sportsmanship).  Mary left to place the order, and before she came back to take our entree order, our appetizers arrived.

Not our scallops.  I guess this is what they come from though....

Scallops first.  In the course of this project, and indeed over the last year, I have let go of my absolute prejudice against all things shellfish.  I don't really have grounds for disliking them, because I've never really had one I didn't like, (not unlike cats - I hate them on principle - but have yet to meet one I didn't like) but I have a wall between myself and shellfish.  The scallops were smallish bacon wrapped cylinders, covered with a barbecue-ish sauce and wrapped in bacon.  They were complemented with a corn relish of some sort that none of us ate.  Since I had never tried them before, I decided to try the scallop portion independent of the bacon.  I know what bacon tastes like.  Light and flaky, the scallops really tasted like...nothing...except the sauce.  So.  I guess that means they were good.  Amy said they were not as good as the scallops she had at Joe's, but that they were good.  The bacon was outstanding.   Some day someone is going to have to explain to me why food that tastes like nothing is good.  I know seafood shouldn't taste fishy - but WHY EAT IT?! 

Now.  The burgers.  The reputation is deserved.  Juicy, seared to perfection, and just basically tasty as hell, the burgers were a nice start of the evening's dining.  Served on a pretzel roll, the juice had bled into the bottom of the bun, soaking it with flavorful goodness.  They were served with a small dish of ketchup on the side, and the roll had been lightly toasted.  It's hard to say much more about them besides I could envision myself eating at Rosebud again just for the burger.  It was that good.  Amalia informed me that any time I was in the city at lunch, she might be persuaded to join me there for lunch.  Provided...I asked.  Tough persuasion.

The Rosebud Burger.  I believe it was Jules who said.....
"MmmmmmMM.  That is a tasty burger..."

While feasting on our appetizers, Mary returned to ask for our entree orders.  Amy and I knew what we wanted long before we got there, but Georg and Amalia were curious about the Chateaubriand for 2 that was listed as a special.  Asking Mary about it, she was not short of opinion.  She basically talked them out of it.  When asked what the house specialty was - she replied, "The Chicago Cut Bone-In Ribeye."  Oddly enough, that was what I was having.  Surprise!  Pretty much it goes like this, every Chicago place worth its salt has a bone in ribeye on its menu.  It is the most flavorful steak, and something about the wet-aging that is standard in Chicago with that steak makes it super easy to cook, and super easy to enjoy. 

Well.  The bone in ribeye is a 24 oz. piece of meat.  Rosebud also featured two smaller ribeyes, a much smaller 10 oz. - which would be hard to cook correctly - that might be too thin - and an 18 oz. Delmonico cut.  Named after Delmonico's restaurant in New York, the Delmonico is a ribeye cut a certain way.  I'm not sophisticated enough to know more than that, so don't ask.

EDIT:  Oh my God.  I found an article.  I wrote this late at night, so I didn't feel like doing the research.  Wanna make your eyes bleed?  Read this article about the Delmonico Cut.  Odd.  I've always heard of it as a ribeye.  Always. 

Amy had decided before we got there on the Delmonico, cooked rare.  Amalia ordered the Petite Filet medium, I got the bone in ribeye medium rare, and Georg was really struggling with what to eat.  Mary was pushing him toward the Delmonico, but he wasn't sure he wanted that much food.  He's not a big red meat guy, and that was a LOT of red meat.  Being who I am, (big red meat guy) I was no help in this situation.  Finally, after much handwringing, Georg decided on the Delmonico as well, cooked Medium.  I felt bad for him, because it was obvious the choice wasn't one he felt solid about.  That has to be a tough feeling.

For our sides, we were informed that the starches and the vegetables were packaged so that one order of either would be enough for 4 people.  Georg and I had relinquished control over the side dishes to the ladies.  They chose the Bacon Cheddar Mashed Potatoes (as Amalia said, "What in there is bad?") and the Grilled Asparagus. 



If you can picture two people glistening like
they were just sprayed with baby oil, and panting
heavily, then this is an exact image of our kiss.  Oh, and
picture their lips meeting.  That's important.

 

More conversation followed, mostly about theatre projects and kids, as we awaited our entrees.  Amalia and I have acted opposite each other twice - including the World's Sweatiest Stage Kiss as Harold and Marian in "The Music Man" in 2003 - and I was lucky enough to direct her in "Steel Magnolias" in 2004.  We have a solid relationship based on our own (it turns out increasingly) peculiar sense of what theatre should be and how it should be done.  I was on stage with Georg in "1776" back in 2001, and have seen him a couple of other times, including opposite Amalia in "She Loves Me," where the two of them met.  None of that has anything to do with food reviews, which is why you came here, but I don't care. 

The following is foreshadowing.  We learned about it before.  During the conversation, I noticed that we had been waiting for our food for a while, and I said, "The waiting is the hardest part."  Foreshadowing kiddies, foreshadowing. 

Our entrees arrived.  The potatoes were magnificently presented in a pan, loaded with cheese and slightly browned on top.  The asparagus was on a small platter, plenty for the whole table.  Our steaks were each served au jus with a tall, cylindrical bone to the side, with a sprig of rosemary protruding from the bone.  Everything looked delicious. 

Then, there was a snag. 

Our steaks were trending towards cold.  They weren't cold yet, but they weren't hot.  I can tell you that.  I don't expect a steak to arrive at the table sizzling like it does at Peter Luger's, but I do expect it to be hot.  I thought for a moment it might have been the au jus, but further thought has convinced me that they basically sat in the kitchen, waiting for someone to serve them.  That's what we were foreshadowing.  The steaks should have been to the table at least 10 minutes earlier.  Since warming them would have required overcooking them, or, God forbid, microwaving them, we persisted in eating them.  So, I have to review what I ate.

Not my steak.  This one appears to have cheese melted on it.  This is Rosebud's
Bone In Ribeye.  Charred.  Au Jus.  What more could you want?  Oh yeah,
you want it served HOT. 

My steak was charred to perfection on the outside.  Rosebud serves nothing but wet-aged USDA Prime steaks.  Can't really screw that up.  The center was warmish red, just as medium rare should be.  It was flavorful, tender, and just utterly delicious.  The fat, intrinsic to a ribeye, was thoroughly melted, and the steak was probably my second favorite steak I've had on this journey, not that far behind Gibsons.  But it wasn't hot.  Amy's steak was cooked to perfection, and coldish.  She really enjoyed it also.  Georg's was also cooked correctly, and he enjoyed it, and all Amalia has said is, "I know we should have talked about the food more besides "Yum." but really, we couldn't." 

So.  The steaks were great.  Raised correctly, butchered correctly, aged correctly, and cooked correctly, but they were not served correctly.  I give Rosebud high marks on its food.  We were greeted by the manager at one point, and while he was informed of the low temperature thing, we all conceded that short of re-cooking there wasn't much that could be done.  Not a whole lot of help. 

The potatoes had nothing bad about them.  But we knew that before we ate them.  They were light, yet cheesy, and the bacon didn't overwhelm the flavor as much as enhance it.  Probably because they were served in their cooking dish, they were still hot.  The asparagus was nothing special, and (surprise!) coldish.  I don't know if I'd order that again.  If I went back. 

After dinner we were given the dessert menu.  We were told that desserts, with the exception of a couple items were big enough for 4.  That was not hyperbole.  The ladies, again in total control, decided on the Banana Cream Pie with Oreo Crust as our dessert.  I ordered a cup of decaf, which was standard issue.

Our actual pie.  We should have put a bus next to it, so you
could see some size perspective.  Woulda dwarfed the bus though....

I don't know what pie the slice we were presented came from, but I imagine it to be roughly the size of a really big pizza.  Or a small planet.  The pie was delicious.  Drizzled with a small amount of chocolate and caramel, the bananas were just right and the Oreo crust was a perfect choice.  Very good dessert.  And yes, one slice was big enough for 4.

So.  There we were.  We were done, having eaten in 2 hours and 15 minutes, and it was time to go.  The check was $300 between the 4 of us with tip, so not all that pricey, but still in the upscale area.

It was an enjoyable evening of catching up and good to great-ish fine dining.

Couple of other summary facts/opinions:

Service was mediocre at best, and certainly not special.  Plates tended to be cleared before they were ready to be cleared, and the cold steaks were inexcuseable.

The bathroom stalls are floor to ceiling.  Apparently that is also standard issue steakhouse material.

The place is bordering on cramped.  I was in the aisle, and my chair was bumped frequently.  Amalia and Amy were right on top of the people behind us.

It's dark.  Even with my super fast lens, pictures were a challenge.

It's noisy.  See the cramped comment. 

There are two Rosebuds that are steakhouses.  I kinda wish I had chosen Rosebud Prime, but chose this one for its intimacy.  I think that was a mistake.  Maybe.  I don't know.

Georg felt as if he ate too much.  I'm a glutton, so I guess I hadn't ever taken that into account at most of the places we've been (except for my stupidity at Morton's).   It was good to get that perspective. 

So.  Bottom line.  Rosebud Steakhouse makes a hell of a steak.  I don't think we'll be returning, because we've had equal meals elsewhere at similar prices with better atmosphere, friendlier staff, etc.  I think I would have to say it was "typical."  I thought maybe that might happen as this went on, that eventually all the places would blend together.  Rosebud did nothing to distinguish itself.  We got a fine meal at a fine meal price.  That was to be expected.  Rosebud was adequate.  There's no shame in that.

I would go back for the hamburgers, though.  Perhaps a lunch visit.

Thanks again for reading.  I really appreciate it.

NEXT MONTH:  N9NE Steakhouse.  Going with guests again.

In lieu of the fairly bad picture of the two of us from Rosebud, here's our wedding day.
I think I'm thinking about steak. 

I need to write....

I know. 

Rosebud Steakhouse this Saturday night.

Rehearsals on "1776" continue.  I'll post more about that soon.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Two weeks in....

...and the baseball season is proving to be perplexing as hell. 

I'm making my observations here.  Nothing profound.  No links today.

The Cubs may never lose 3 in a row.  They may never win 3 in a row either.  That does not bode well for the idea of playoffs.  Win streaks are what put teams in the playoffs.  I don't see the Cubs being able to do that.

The White Sox's bullpen troubles are beyond ludicrous.  Therefore, they will get better.  There is simply no way they can be that bad the entire season.

The Indians are going to fall to Earth.  As are the Royals.  And the Twins will be better.

Albert Pujols will probably hit .300 and have at least 35 home runs.  Because that's what Albert Pujols does.

The Red Sox will win the AL East.  The Yankees' pitching simply will not be good enough.

I'm looking forward to seeing any Phillies game this year.

I'm not sure about the Giants.  But the rest of that division blows. 

The Rangers are scary good.  And a lot of 3rd base coaches seem to be making bad decisions.

I am going to love Kauffman Stadium in KC. 

I'm going to see Fenway and hate Wrigley even more.  I know it. 

Nothing is decided in the first 2 weeks of the season.  But lots of things can be decided BECAUSE of the first 2 weeks. 

Buck Showalter deserves a raise.  Since he took over, the Orioles have had the best record in the AL East by like 5 games.  That's crazy.  That team is not that good.  They just aren't. 

I'm going to hate when this season is over.  Just like I hate it every other year.

I am pulling rank....

....because this is MY blog.  A good number of you have been reading my blogposts every month about my steakhouses.  I appreciate it.

The list of steakhouses I chose was based on these two lists.  I culled the best of each list, or at least the ones that looked most appealing. 

I'm making a change.  I'm cutting Tramonto's and substituting Chicago Cut Steakhouse.  Why?  I really don't need to explain it, because this is my toy, and I can play with it how I choose.  But.....being the bleeding heart almost liberal I am, I will.

1.  Tramonto's is in Wheeling.  We have eaten at two places out of Chicago proper (Gibsons in Rosemont and Morton's in Naperville), but both places have their roots in the city.  We ate there for convenience.  So.  There are lots of fine steakhouses in the suburbs.  There is one in Geneva called FoxFire, where Amy and I celebrated our first anniversary.  There are others around.  Visitors from out of town are not headed to the suburbs to go out to eat.  I'm not going to start reviewing suburban places...because I'll be in the poor house by then.  So.  I'm pulling the city snob card.

2.  The menu at Tramonto's doesn't appear to appeal to the steak lover.  The menu is limited.  There are steaks, but they don't appear to be "steaks" like we carnivores are used to eating.  On the one hand, trying new things has become appealing, but the only steak that looks good on this menu is peppercorn crusted.  I don't want that. 

3.  Amy and I thoroughly enjoy getting to go somewhere swanky and citified once a month.  Chicago Cut seems to appeal to that. 

So there.  I've made a switch.  Hope it doesn't alienate any of you loyal readers.  My guess is you were probably not going to Tramonto's anyway. 

Yours in meat....
Randy

Meat.  Meat.  Meat.

David Burke's Primehouse - Miss Chicago Steakhouse for April

Rush street at 5 p.m.  David Burke's Primehouse.

Hello, gentle reader, and welcome to the fifth in my series of monthly reviews of Chicago Steakhouses.  I have been continually amazed by how many people comment on these reviews when they see me.  Hell, last month a stranger from Boston commented.  Mind-boggling.  I'm glad people seem to take an interest in this, and I am truly grateful for each and every pageview I get. 

Previously, I've written about Joe's, Keefer's, Gibsons, and Morton's The Steakhouse.  Each and every place has had something special about it, and this month's place continues that trend.  Amy and I visited David Burke's Primehouse on March 19th.  I first heard of this restaurant on the Travel Channel's hour long special "Steak Paradise 2:  A Second Helping."  It looked like a cool place, and it lived up to that hype. 

The usual primer.  Click on the links.  They are part of the writing.  (One of these months, I will stop saying that...)

Where to begin?  Ah.  At the beginning.   Last Christmas, my mother in law gave her children and their spouses a c-note apiece with the instructions that we were to buy our own Christmas presents, wrap them, then open them in front of her.  Amy chose to buy tickets to the Lookingglass Theatre with her money (somehow I got half her present...), and a night of babysitting thrown in for good measure.  We had tickets to the matinee performance of "Ethan Frome."  It was a well acted play that I'm not sure needs to exist.  I'm drifting.  Steak.  Get to the steak. 



Just teasing us.  We had to wait for our seats...



Anyway, I made 5:30 reservations, which gave us an hour to travel from the Water Tower down to Rush & Ontario.  We were there by 5:05.  Located in the James Hotel, Primehouse is one block north of Rush and Grand, sharing the block with Joe's.  Walking up to the door, it didn't feel like a restaurant.  It felt like a hotel.  A very swanky hotel.  The red-lettered "Primehouse" above the door was all that advertised the place.  We entered, and I went to the host's station.  I was instructed that the staff was being briefed, and that they would be seating starting at 5:30.  Hmmmmph.  Turns out I had the earliest reservation one could make.  There was a small bar right there, and there were a number of people in it, so it was obvious we weren't the only "early bird" diners.  Amy and I chose to pass on any sort of libation, so we just found a seat in the hotel lobby and waited for 5:30 to arrive.  The restaurant had placed wine list booklets and dessert/appetizer menus in the lobby of the hotel.  It appeared as if a few people ordered some appetizers, but Amy and I chose to wait until seated.  We had a babysitter.  We weren't in a huge rush to get home. 

Finally, the moment arrived.  I checked in again, and we were led through the restaurant to our table.  Right next to the kitchen.  The place was starting to fill up....but not that fast.  Bah.  They filled up quickly.  The restaurant is a chic place with lots of leather (some of which is deteriorating).  The tablecloths are leather.  The seats are leather.  The menu has a leather cover.  I was sensing a trend. 

The place was obviously vegan. 

Upon seating, we were met by our server for the evening, Scott.  Scott was a delight.  Funny, detail oriented, and obviously a veteran of many, many years of the food service industry, Scott made us feel at home and made sure that we were comfortable.  He told us that he had "all the steaks on the menu this evening."  This is important.  If you've seen the Travel Channel show, skip the next paragraph.

David Burke's Primehouse has a few unique things about it.  1.  They dry age their steaks.  No, that's not really that unique, but in Chicago, wet aging is the norm.  2.  They dry age their steaks in a room lined with blocks of million plus year old Himalayan salt.  3.  They feature on their menu two steaks which go beyond normal: a 55 day aged bone in ribeye, and the truly adventurous 75 day aged bone in ribeye.  Before we went to the restaurant, I scoured the interwebs looking for a review of the 75 day steak.  I wanted to try it, simply for the experience, but I wanted to know what I was getting myself into when I did.  Know what?  There are like NO reviews (until now...?) of the 75 day steak.  Almost every Google search came back with something like "the 75 day steak was not available the day we went...."   Well, it was the day we went. 

I digress.  Back to the food....

The beginning of one of the most fun nights of fooding I've ever had.

After Scott announced that every steak was available, I said confidently, "Then you should know what I'm getting."  He said, "The crab?"  I kid.  He knew I was gonna be one of those who had to try the bordering on rotting piece of meat.  He said he'd be back to talk appetizers, and as he left the table, a couple of small vessels brimming with an Asiago Cheese Bread were placed in front of us.  I'm generally not that big a fan of any cheese that has any sort of...."tanginess" to it, but the bread was delicious.  It was served with a plate of butter with some coarsely ground....Himalayan salt on it.  Yummy. 

As we perused our menus, I was trying to decide on an appetizer.  It is at this point that something else must be noted.  The place is called David Burke's Primehouse.  The chef's name is on the door.  So, while it was obvious that great steak was going to be part of the evening, it was becoming apparent that tonight was going to be about a total food experience, and that Amy and I would be eating things that perhaps we hadn't eaten before.  Getting a little wrapped up in that thought....I decided to go for broke.  Lots of things looked appetizing on the appetizer menu.  Kobe Corn Dogs on a Stick, Bacon on a Stick, Pretzel Crusted Crab Cakes....but there was one thing I wanted to try.  Dad, if you're reading this, turn away now. 

We ordered the Wagyu Beef Sashimi.  For those who don't know, Kobe beef is from Japan.  Exclusively.  Like champagne only comes from France.  Wagyu is the American version of Kobe beef.  Sashimi?  Yeah.  That means raw.  Raw slices of steak, served on a block of salt.  I've never tried sushi.  I've never tried any raw meat.  Insert filthy joke of your own here.  Something about the place made me want to try it.  Scott promised me we'd like it, then took the balance of our dinner order.  I ordered the 75 day ribeye medium rare, Amy ordered the 40 day, also medium rare.  We asked for a Baked Potato, only to be told it wasn't available.  Huh?  Turned out that was fine, because we ordered Basil Whipped Potatoes instead.   We also ordered the Spicy Asparagus.  We had what appeared to be the makings of a unique kind of meal on its way. 

It is here that the real fun started.  Apparently, Scott sensed that maybe we might want to experience more of the restaurant.  So, he informed us that after dinner, he'd send someone around to take us to the AGING ROOM!  HUH?!  I think it was because of my general good mood, or perhaps the camera...but for some reason he knew that was something I wanted to do.  I was beside myself.  This was great.  Here I have this blog, with loyal readers, and I'm going to get to go and see one of the things that makes the place special.  I felt special.  It should be noted that I never have once mentioned this blog to any server at any of the places we've visited.  1.  400 readers a month ain't that big a deal.  2.  I really don't think this is that unique.  3.  Who the hell wants to think that someone is going to review them online?  So.  The invite to the aging room was unsolicited. 

Who'da thought raw meat could be so damned tasty?  And yes,
that is an entire block of salt there...

It wasn't much longer before our appetizer arrived. 

My brothers.  I am not often swayed into new food experiences.  I like what I like, and I don't often travel outside my comfort zone.  I'm here to give you my testimony.   I have been reborn.  Kinda.  The paper thin slices of raw meat that arrived at our table were something I'm glad I decided to try.  The saltiness, I assume infused by the block, the tart taste of the meat, and the way it just about melted in my mouth gave me an experience I never would have imagined.  To say I was delighted cheapens the word delighted.  It was simply delicious.  I heartily recommend it to anyone.  I was really starting to get into the evening.  Amy didn't care for the Sashimi as much as I did, but I could tell she was enjoying the overall experience also.  Scott came around to check on us while we ate our appetizer, and was very, very attentive.  After the Sashimi was finished (I ate 2/3 of it...), Scott brought us each what amounted to about a spoonful of lemon sorbet, to "cleanse the palate."  It did.  It was a nice touch, and one that further proved tonight was about flavors. 

This is my face when I ate the first bite of my steak.  I would
describe that look as quizzical.

It was time for the main event.  Our steaks, potatoes, and asparagus all arrived at once.  And, Scott brought us an order of the tempura fried green beans "with his compliments."  Now, we hadn't ordered the beans, but Amy had been wanting them as well.  The evening was really shaping up nicely.  Scott placed my steak down in front of me, Amy's in front of her, and told us to enjoy.  I was sure I would.  This is where the night got funky.  Sort of.  The bottom line, as best I can say it, is I'm not sure I actually liked my steak.  It didn't taste like anything I'd ever had before.  Dry aging is a process that we in Chicago don't experience often.  It lends a certain "gamey" quality to any cut of meat.  I had never been able to identify until after the meal at Primehouse why a steak I had in San Francisco tasted a little off to me.  Simple.  It was dry aged.  Now.  Take that gamey quality and almost double the normal aging time.  You are going to get a very unique taste.  And that's what my steak was.  Unique tasting.  It didn't taste like steak.  But....it was good.  Very good.  It just wasn't "steak."  At least not steak as I'm used to it.  And I think that was good.  I think.  It's been three weeks and I still can't decide.  Amy had a similar reaction to my steak.  Hers, on the other hand, we both agreed, was excellent.  It tasted like what we're used to steak tasting like, and it was cooked to perfection.  Amy really enjoyed it. 



This is my steak.  Aged 75 days.  Tasty.  I think.  I can't decide.



Also worth mentioning are the potatoes and the green beans.  They were delicious in their own right, but the thing I found most pleasing of the side dishes was the asparagus.  I hate to keep using this word, but the flavor was so....unique.  And tasty.  Just a hint of heat to them, the sauce served only to enhance the natural flavor of the vegetable.  I enjoyed them.  In fact, I think we finished all of them, if memory serves.  I'm pretty sure it was the only one of the sides we finished. 

Dessert SHOULD be fun, dammit!

It was time for dessert.  The evening had been so fun, and we had so thoroughly enjoyed Scott's service, that we ordered what appeared to be the most fun dessert.  We ordered the Lollipop Cheesecakes.  Yup.  You read that correctly.  Balls of cheesecake, dipped in various sauces, then served on a stick in a lovely sort of tree.  It was garnished with a strawberry whipped cream for dipping.  What a fun, fun dessert.  The cheesecakes were exquisite.  I'm not a big strawberry guy, but the night had been about stepping out of my comfort zone, so I went for it.  All it did was make the already great dessert that much better.  I enjoyed a delicious cup of decaf with dessert, and we talked and talked about how much fun we had eating our meal that evening. 

Shortly after dessert the check came, along with yet more food, a small chocolate caramel and a small square of yellow cake, not unlike a Twinkie.  Just the perfect little "now you're done" moment.  Scott also informed us that someone would be there momentarily to take us to the aging room.  I paid the check.  I've listed the amounts before, so I'll do it again....our dinner set us back $250.  It was an expensive, expensive meal.  Take that for whatever you take that to mean. 

Helen, one of the managers, showed up at our table to take us to the aging room.  We were led through the kitchen, then down the stairs into a much smaller than I anticipated room where racks and racks of steaks were breaking down, crusting over, and generally becoming more tender.  We were shown the salt blocks on the wall, then explained how the air circulated in there to keep the atmosphere fresh.  It was chilly in there, but not freezing.  While there, I asked her how people got to come down there, and she replied, "anyone who asks."  Well.  I hadn't asked.  Ah, yes.  The big time.  Ha.  We conversed for a while about other places in town, about dry aging, about all kinds of steak stuff.  I took pictures.  We were shown a piece of meat that had been in the room since the place opened.  In 2006.  Yeah.  That wasn't appetizing looking.  Helen asked where we were from, and asked what brought us down.  It was then that I revealed for the first time that I had this blog.  She seemed interested, asked what other places we were going to visit, and talked about her own history with a couple of places on my list where she had been previously employed.  Fantastic lady, and if you're reading this Helen - thanks for the tour. 

Nuts and bolts time:

Primehouse is expensive.  Expensive.

Atmosphere is great.  It's super fun, people are loud, and the place is alive.

You will enjoy flavors you haven't before.  

Take the tour.   

So, that's it.  I was going to try and be more brief this month, but there were too many stories.  Maybe next month.  Thanks for reading, and I'll be back with another one of these in May.

NEXT MONTH:  Rosebud Steakhouse (next month we're bringing guests.....)

We never take vacation - so what the hell.  This is our treat this year. 
Notice the salt blocks on the wall behind us.  Oh.  And the MEAT.

Arrrrgggghhhh....

I'm editing this post on April 6.  I must tell the story of it.  I was cast as Jefferson in "1776" last week. However, I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that until the cast list was posted.  I also wasn't allowed to know who else was in it until then.  I became VERY frustrated waiting.  I'm not the most patient person in the world.  So.  I wrote this, and posted it here, so I could feel like I'd shouted it to the world.  I posted this before I was supposed to tell anyone, but was somewhat subtle about it.  Somewhat.  Anyway - I was being naughty. 

And yes, the first letter of each line spells out Jefferson.  I've changed them to red and added space.

I think it's clever anyway. 




J ust in case
E veryone wanted to know how the
F rickin' casting of the
F rickin' show turned out.
E verything apparently comes in time.
R egardless of our personal timetables.
S o they tell me.
O h well.  That's enough for
N ow.

Last night....

I was at callbacks for "1776" at Wheaton Drama. 

It has been a long time since I auditioned for anything.  Even longer since I've been in a callback.

I've become jaded/cynical/more comfortable in my skin in the last few years.  So....

Last night I was the class clown. 

And I don't regret a moment of it. 




Me, as Thomas Jefferson, in 2001.

 

I guess....

....this shark doesn't heed warnings.

Stupid headline writers. 

I tried to watch....

...the reboot of "Star Trek," but was blinded by light shining in the camera constantly.  And that word is used correctly.  CONSTANTLY. 

This image is from Cracked.com and their feature "If Movie Posters Were Honest."

Is anyone else able to see?  'Cause I can't. 

Spot on.

Apparently....

Building the set at Wheaton Drama - day 1.  From left:  Toria Hollyn, Me,
Ben Aylesworth, Steve Blount, Keith deBolt, Scott Neidl. 
They managed to capture me actually working and not directing traffic.
This is usually hard to do.

....I was in the newspaper recently. 

How about that?

I'll post some shots this weekend...

...because I'm funny about waiting until opening.  But the set is done.  We built a backyard and house on the stage of Wheaton Drama. 

I have a ghost chasing me all the time when I do theatre.  He'd like this set. 

A lot. 

Kudos to all the great people who worked on it.  They know who they are, but Keith DeBolt, you sir, are a stone cold bitch.  LOVE IT!

Next spring...

Not an actual picture of me.  Yet.

I'll be directing the farce "Black Comedy" by Peter Shaffer.
 
Until then....

I'll be in the fetal position trying to figure out how to do it.

Morton's The Steakhouse - Miss Chicago Steakhouse for March





Great food in the western 'burbs.

Here we are back again for a review of another Chicago steak legend:  Morton's The Steakhouse. 

Previously I've written about Joe's, Keefer's, and Gibsons (this is the soundtrack in my head when I say the word "Gibsons").  Amy and I have gotten to go out with no kids once a month so far this year, and have enjoyed some great restaurants here in the fine city of Chicago.

Don't forget to click on links embedded in this story.  They are part of the writing.  Plus, some of them are funny.  Kinda.  See?  That last link is someone who's kinda funny.   All the photos except the ones I say aren't mine - are mine.



I'll never understand what sleeping pigs
have to do with a steakhouse.  Oh wait.  Read how
much I ate, then maybe it makes sense.

 This month we went to Morton's in Naperville. 

Some background information.  I've been to Morton's more than any place else on this list.  Amy and I have dined there on our anniversary the past 3 years, and for my birthday as well.  I've been accepted as a VIP by the establishment there for some reason, and I consider it my "home base" when it comes to finer dining.  A few members of the wait staff recognize us, and we are always treated like we're special.  We love the place. 

Saturday night was my birthday.  As a VIP, I received a very generous gift certificate in the mail about a week ago.  We had already decided on Morton's, but the extra C-note they threw my way didn't make me feel bad at all.  Not one bit.

I promised somewhere I would tell the tale of my induction into VIP status.  As I said, Amy and I are somewhat  frequent visitors.  I'm a generous tipper, because, well, because I am.  Last October when we went out for our anniversary, our server recognized us from previous visits.  Apparently, the VIP program is a process initiated by your server.  They recommend you, the staff reviews you, then you are selected.  Or so I was told by my boss's brother.  This is the fun part of the story.  He was in my boss's office big timing him about how he was a VIP, the membership procedure, all the free stuff you get, etc. etc.  He was really letting him have it about what a big shot he was.  I had just been initiated myself.  I listened to him go on and on (my boss and I share a wall/open door) about how exclusive a club it was.  When he was done, he walked through my office, and I said, "Were you talking about Morton's VIP?"  He replied, "Yeah."  I said, "See you at the shareholder's meeting."  He was a little deflated to know that I qualified for this "elite" club as well.  It was a nice moment. 

I had to crop this to remove the super secret phone
number.  It's far too dangerous to be in just
anyone's hands.

Anyway, I'm a VIP.  Which means that I have a card with a special phone number that gives me priority seating, free after dinner drinks, a magazine, and generous gifts throughout the year.  Apparently I can show this card at any Morton's in the country and get a table, no reservations necessary.  I'm NEVER going to do that, because it's obnoxious as hell, but it is fun to know that I could.  I am also allowed a locker for wine at the Naperville location with my name on it.  Yeah, I don't think a bottle of sparkling apple juice is going to work there, but it is a nice gesture. 

I'm getting off track.  I called the special phone number on my card and made my reservation.  After a bit, I asked if I needed to mention my VIP status.  The woman replied, "If your name hadn't come up in my database when you gave it to me, I would have asked how you got this number."  Nice.  I mentioned that it was my birthday, and she assured me we would have a great evening.  One of the things that I really enjoy about Morton's is the phone call you get the day before - reminding you of your impending reservation.  It's like a taste bud wake up call.  I was in a meeting on Friday when mine came, and I was instantly perked up thinking about gnawing on some prime steak the following evening. 



The menu.  Custom printed just for me.  And you. 
If you follow the procedure...

 One other thing - if you tell the person taking the reservation that it is a special occasion, you get a custom printed menu with your name on it, the event you're celebrating, then they come around and take your picture and give you it in a signed by all the staff holder.  There are two Kaylee's that work at Morton's in Naperville, but one spells it Kaileigh, and one spells it Kaily.  Weird.  Amy and I are papering a wall in Brady's room with these photos.  I kid. 

OK.  I think that clears up the stories.  Nuts and bolts time. 

Morton's in Naperville is in a relatively new development right off the Naperville Road exit from I-88.  It shares a parking lot with Maggiano's, The White Chocolate Grill, a Taco Fresco place and a few other retail locations.  It's suburban.  Very suburban.  The building is a brick facade with burgundy awnings over every window.  There is a small outdoor area off the entrance, accessible through the bar, but on March 5, yeah, not so many people out there.  A valet greets you at the door, opens it for you, and you are in a small entry vestibule.  There are magazine covers, etc., hung on the walls, all praising Morton's.  They're letting you know when you walk in that they kick ass.  Nothing wrong with that.  As you pass through the second door, you encounter the Maitre d' station on your right and the bar on your left.  Amy and I have waited in the bar on one occasion, and it was pleasant.  They've got sports on, the staff is attentive, and it's a quiet little steakhouse bar. 



The glass in the bar.  Lit by magic.

 We got to the place a few minutes before our reserved time, but were greeted by an enthusiastic hostess, and the Maitre d'.  I'm not sure what the guy's name is, but I have affectionately named him (WARNING:  SEXUALLY EXPLICIT NICKNAME COMING!) Handjob.  He always shakes your hand, has nothing but smiles, calls you "baby" and talks about how he "loves it" when you mention you've been here before, or that you're out without the kids, or that your grandmother just died.  OK, not so much with the dead grandma stuff, but the guy is pretty much a...handjob.  He loves everything.  I like him though.  No visit feels right if he's not there.  He showed us to our table, gave us our custom printed menus for the evening, and replaced Amy's white napkin with a black one.  It's a nice touch.  All the women get black napkins.  We assume it is for the lipstick stains, but it is a never-fail zen moment that we get on the way into our seats.  

The room is ringed with curved booths (you know the kind where you both wind up sitting next to each other) of white leather.  There are about 30 other tables spread throughout the middle, and 3 private rooms off to the side.  There is an ENORMOUS wine rack between the dining room and the bar, and there are wine bottles used as decorative devices throughout.  Cherry trim, alabaster lights.  You know.  A steakhouse.  There is one wall with photos of famous patrons, and you can see into the kitchen.  It's a typical fine dining kind of place.  Homey, yet elegant.

 We were greeted quickly by our server Matt, who asked if I needed to see the wine list.  When I informed him of my choice not to consume alcohol, he gave no sigh, no grunt, but smiled and said, "No problem.  What would you care for instead?"  Our bus boy cleared the two place settings that were no longer needed, filled our water glasses with, as Matt put it, "Naperville Tap," then brought out the first item in what would prove to be too many pieces of food for the author.  The bread.



Simpsons Reference:  I needed Marge to tell me
not to fill up on bread.



For those of you not familiar with Morton's, they bring you out a loaf of freshly baked bread, with crisped onion flakes on the outside.  It is the size of a dinner plate.  It is extremely tasty.  It's also A LOAF OF BREAD.  I love it.  Amy loves it.  Amy didn't want to eat much of it.  SO, I polished off the whole fucking thing.  Except for the small sliver Amy ate.  This was the beginning of my descent into a feeling I will describe mildly as "uncomfortable."  Less mildly, I would say, "Stuffed myself until I thought seriously about how I was going to handle it when I barfed all over the table."  VIP's get to do that.  I think.  I didn't test it, thank goodness, but it was touch and go there for a few moments. 

I didn't take this photo.  This is the meat tray. 

As we ate our bread, Matt brought over the tray of meats.  I love this part of the evening.  He showed us the filet, the porterhouse, the bone in ribeye, the NEW bone in filet, the strip (which he described as the house specialty) and the 48 ounce double porterhouse, a 2.5 inch thick behemoth meant to test a man's soul.  He also held up what can only be described as a small tree of broccoli, a potato which could also serve as a pee wee football, a rubber banded pile of asparagus that would weigh down a mule, and a 3.5 pound live lobster.  Not a fan of the lobster used as entertainment, but it was never going to end well for him/her anyway.  Amy and I had discussed it prior to coming, and since this visit was partly for you, the loyal reader, and partly for my birthday, we had decided we would order the Double Porterhouse, medium rare, since it is unique to Morton's.  It is carved tableside by the Maitre d', so we thought maybe we'd get a return visit from Handjob.  (WARNING:  SEXUALLY EXPLICIT JOKE COMING)  JOKE REDACTED FOR TASTE'S SAKE.  YOU MAKE UP YOUR OWN.



Yummy yummy soupy goodness.



We also ordered other items.  I ordered the Baked Five Onion Soup as an appetizer, and Amy ordered the Wedge Salad, which we split between us, because it's HALF A HEAD OF LETTUCE.  We also ordered Thousand island dressing.  For those keeping score, I've now eaten almost all the bread, ordered a big ass bowl of soup, and am going to eat a quarter head of lettuce.  Oh yeah, and we got the Baked Potato.  For two.  Because it is about as big as the meteor that Bruce Willis split in half in "Armageddon."  "Armageddon" is a terrible movie, but Steve Buscemi was brilliant in it.  For that matter, what hasn't he been great doing?  He was even good in "Airheads."  Am I drifting?  I'm drifting.

The first item to arrive was my soup.  Baked with a generous helping of swiss cheese over the top of the crock, along with a large wedge of bread inside, it is full of onions and oniony goodness.  It is a very tasty starter, the onions almost being liquid by the time they hit your mouth.  I've eaten it frequently at Morton's, and I can say it is among the best onion soups I've ever eaten. 

I polished that off as quickly as I could, then watched as our salads arrived.  Woohoo!  MORE FOOD!  The lettuce was crisp, the thousand island dressing was very well made; again, like Gibsons, it was not as good as Keefer's, but it was tasty.  There was egg and also some bacon on the salad.  It really cleansed my palate after the soup, and got me ready for the main course.  Morton's dishes are all first class.  From the soup right on down, you can taste the quality of every ingredient.  And as Handjob would say, "At these prices, what do you expect?"

Matt was very attentive as we ate our meal, refilling my Diet Coke frequently (filling more of my stomach), and getting plates out of our way, making sure everything tasted right, etc.  The wait staff at Morton's is top notch, and Matt was a reminder of just how good they are. 

Finally, after we finished our salads, the main event arrived.  The 3 pound steak and the 95 pound potato.  I'm kidding.  It was only 87 pounds.  When you get the baked potato at Morton's, they bring around one of those 3 bowl serving things.  I don't know what they're called.  This thing.  One bowl is filled with sour cream.  One is filled with bacon.  The last is filled with butter.  To call the staff generous with the butter is making the word generous sound cheap.  Put it this way.  My half of the potato had a half stick of butter on it.  No exaggeration.  No hyperbole.  No way I'm not going to enjoy the hell out of that.  Cooked to perfection, the potato is absolutely wonderful.  For a baked potato.  Amy had all three toppings on her half. 

Not a picture of our steak.  Didn't want to take a photo while it was being
carved.  Fred Flintstone not pictured.

Sure enough, Handjob arrived to cut the steak.  Basically, the Maitre d' cuts along the bone, removing both the filet and strip sides of the steak, then divides them in half, and places your plates in front of you.  It's a bit of show that is probably unnecessary, but what's the point of eating out at a nice place if there isn't a little something special along with it?  The filet side of our steak was enormous.  The strip side was big too, but there was a lot of filet.  I've mentioned before that I used to be strictly a porterhouse guy, because I could fill up on the strip side, then save the filet for the end as a kind of meat dessert.  I've since switched to ribeyes, but I wanted to have the show.  Foreshadowing, kids.  Foreshadowing. 

It is here that the evening hit a snag.  As we were perusing our menus, I had asked Amy several times if she was sure she wanted the double porterhouse.  Basically, I was trying to say I had changed my mind, but I didn't come out and say it.  I wanted to do this for you.  Pure and simple.  I regret that decision.  The problem with the big ass steak is that it doesn't really cook right close to the bone.  To get a medim rare on the rest of the steak, it needs to be removed from the broiler before the stuff furthest from the heat gets a chance to cook.  Therefore, what you get is a small section of beef that is so rare that it borders on raw.  It's tasty, but it's a little off putting.  Amy's portion of the strip also had a fairly large tendon in it, so that was a bummer as well.  The steak was cooked correctly where it was cooked, but the exterior was missing that char that I love so much.  My strip side was a strip steak.  I was reminded why I switched to ribeye.  Strip, while described as flavorful, just isn't.  The filet side was delicious.  Silky, soft, buttery, what have you.  It was a filet.  I'd eat filet exclusively if I thought it would fill me up, but it doesn't, so I don't.  Amy enjoyed her filet as well.  Again, the undercooked portions that were near the bone were off putting.  Kids, if you're going to Morton's - don't get the double porterhouse.  I've done it.  Many times.  I've also done the bone in ribeye.  Do that.  You'll be happier.  I promise. 



It's a chocolate cake with a molten center.  It's called
Molten Chocolate Cake.  Go figure.



Dessert.  I ordered my dessert along with my steak.  It has to be ordered then, because that's how long it takes to bake.  It is a signature dish called "Morton's Molten Chocolate Cake."  It is a bittersweet chocolate cake with a molten chocolate center.  It is served with a scoop of Haagen Dazs vanilla ice cream and it is delicious.  I recommend it wholeheartedly.  As these reviews have started collecting, I've started an Excel spreadsheet for when I'm done where I will rank certain facets of each place, and who has the best items of certain description.  Right now, Morton's molten cake is second for best dessert, behind the otherworldly Key Lime Pie from Joe's.  It's a bit like saying Willie Mays is the second best baseball player of all time, behind Babe Ruth.  It ain't like Mays was a slouch.  No shame in being second best if that's the standard to which you're aspiring.  Amy ordered the cheesecake.  It is the only item that is not made on premises.  It comes from a place called Jr.'s in Brooklyn.  Amy says it had won some award on some show she watched, and she was very happy with her dessert.



Amy's dessert.  I think she ate one or two more
bites and had enough.

 I also had a delicious cup of decaf with my dessert. 

That was too much.  By the end of my cake, my wife looked at me and asked me if I noticed that I was clutching the table with my right hand as I tried to finish off my cake.  I hadn't.  But I was.  I was full.  I mean FULL.  There was no more room for anything.  I had to stop drinking coffee, because it just wouldn't fit.  It was then that I contemplated the barfing all over the table thing.  Like I said, I didn't.  I was VERY uncomfortable though.  VERY. 

I'll sum up:  I had a loaf of bread, 4 or 5 Diet Cokes (watching my calories, apparently), a crock of soup covered in cheese, a quarter head of lettuce slathered in dressing, a half a potato the size of a baby's head, over a pound of steak, chocolate cake and a cup of coffee.  Gluttony.  Deadly sin.  GUILTY!!!!!

The rest:

Wait staff is great.  Friendly, personable, and prompt.  I love Morton's people. 

Ambience is beautiful.  Noisy, but not loud.  People are there to enjoy themselves, and they do.  

It's pricey.  Without the hundred dollar discount, we would have spent over two bills on our meal.  Dollar for dollar, I'll take Gibsons for that kinda dough.  I've loved the 40's style way I've referred to cash in this post.  Greenbacks. 

Don't do the double porterhouse.  It's tempting.  Don't do it.  Get an individual steak.  You'll be happier. 

Tums.  You will eat too much.  You will have no choice.

Well, that's it.  No angels this time.  Morton's is a prime steakhouse serving prime steaks that makes a special occasion extra special.  We go there frequently, and will continue to as we get older.  We had a very nice night out for my birthday.  Can't think of anyone I'd rather spend it with than my beautiful wife.

All you "Tommy Boys" - sing it:  Fat guy with a little wife.  Fat guy with a little wife.

NEXT MONTH:  David Burke's Primehouse - home of the 75 day aged ribeye.  Guess what I'm getting....