Hey Fat Man! Come Try One o' These Places (San Francisco's Top Steak Joints)Jun 21 '01 (Updated Sep 30 '02) Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line There are lots of fine places to stuff roasted flesh into your face while pretending you're Willie Lohman
The archetypal business meal takes place between a couple of fat guys in mid-priced suits. They have much in common, these business diners: One is trying to screw the other one on a sale, the other is trying to screw the first on a purchase; both have a lifetime membership to the Hair Club for Men; both would cheat on their wives, if they could get anyone to sleep with them, or if their wives hadn't already left them three years before, technically rendering any theoretical coitus "not cheating"; both agree that Invisible Touch was Genesis' finest album; and both love big honkin' slabs of expense account meat. Well brothas, I'm here to help. There's a Men's Warehouse on Market and Third, a Virgin Megastore with an entire Genesis section on Market and Powell, a passel o' houses of not so good repute near Market and Sixth, and FOUR PREMIUM STEAKHOUSES in San Francisco. I can't give you anything but directions for the rest of your needs, but on the steakhouse tip, I'm a one-stop info source. What They Have in Common: good booze, fine glassware Normally, I might address the bars at each of these places. After all, one of the primary pleasures for an upper-middle class fat man at a steakhouse is the ability to order a good single malt Scotch, small batch Bourbon or perfectly rendered martini. But the truth is, there is simply no point in comparatively addressing the liquor selection or bar tendering skills. Each of these restaurants understands the importance of this aspect and they take it seriously. Each has a truly fine selection of high end booze, and a skilled, sedate, bar staff. With the exception of Izzy's, each also features elegant, sturdy bar-ware, a factor typically not meriting comment, but there is something about having very good drinks in very good glasses that I think enhances the steakhouse experience. ________________________________________ RUTH'S CHRIS STEAKHOUSE the room Like most fine steakhouses, Ruth's has the aura of a men's club from another era: dim lighting, wide, cushioned rump support, rich carpeting and wood-paneled walls. Only Ruth's is a big chain restaurant, so Ruth's version of the men's club has a distinctly mass produced appeal. It's all fine and good and comfortable, but there's nothing about it that stands out. the appetizers Mmmmmm. Guuumbo. Yummay. Lobster Biiiisque. How fancy, seared Ahi Tuna. Skip ‘em all here. This restaurant couldn't get a starter right if owner Ruth Fertel's perma-blonde wig depended on it. The soups and gumbo and bisque are perpetually served luke-warm, and have all the complexity of something you'd get out of a Progresso can. Actually, Progresso makes a damn fine New England Clam Chowda, so I take that back. The thing is, Ruth's doesn't even really seem to be trying on this score. The ingredient combinations are so ill-advised as to be laughable. For instance, the aforementioned ahi is served with "a spirited sauce with hints of ginger, mustard and beer." BEER! No. On the other hand, they have a perfectly edible steakhouse salad, but you ought not to eat a steakhouse salad unless it's at one of those places where it comes with the meal. You just look like a goof ordering lightly dressed iceberg at a place featuring seared top-notch flesh. So skip the starter and have another Lagavulin instead. Be a man. the flesh and stuff A lot of people give short shrift to the meat at Ruth's Chris, and for the life of me I can't figure out why. Prime, aged beef is prime, aged beef wherever you go. Only, Ruth's sears their prime aged beef in 1800 degree ovens to lock in that corn-fed yumptiousness. I love that the steak comes sizzling hot and a little charred on the outside and deep pink, but still a little warm, on the inside. Maybe it's the butter. Ruth's puts a slab of butter on top of the meat when it comes out of the oven, and by the time it gets to your table the pre-heated plates are covered with cracklin' goodness. Some people call it grease, but they're idiots. It's butter, and butter makes everything better. I always get either the filet mignon or the petit filet. They cost around 26 bucks, which puts them in the mid-range for prime beef restaurants. New York's around the same price. The thing some people don't like about Ruth's is that everything is a la carte, which means you pay extra for the sides. But it's not all that much extra that it figures to come out as expensive as the most pricey of these restaurants. The mashed potatoes are the best of the pickins. There are enough for 3 people and they run about 6 bucks. They're creamy, fluffy and oozing with butter, Propa. The creamed spinach is also a fine, traditional accompaniment to your steak. It's done right, and it costs about 5 bucks. Ruth's also offers white-trash sides, like broccoli with melted cheese, and other stuff with melted cheese, but the cheese is surely Velveeta, so if I see you ordering any of these things, I'm going to shoot spit-balls at you from across the room. If you're in from Wisconsin, I suppose it's alright for you to order, like, scalloped potatoes, which at least come in some kind of white cheese. But anything orange on your veggies, and I'm gonna get medieval. ____________________________________ ALFREDS Alfreds Steakhouse, established in 1928, is one of the oldest hifalutin prime beef joints in the city. Originally a Broadway (North Beach) staple, it moved to San Francisco's financial district (basically, in an alley across from the Transamerica Pyramid) about 4 years ago.[1] the room The first thing you may notice once you get past the foyer at Alfred's is a large glass enclosure full of aging beef. Neat. The second thing you'll notice is that the room is kinda bright. It's also a little more crowded than Ruth's or Harris' (but not as crowded as Izzy's). There are booths along each of the burgundy walls of the main dining room, but there are also four-person tables lined in a row, at angles, along the middle section of the room, with a rather narrow space separating the tables from the booths. It's not uncomfortably close, but for a room so otherwise elegant, the tightness and brightness takes away from the ambiance a bit. Off to the right of the dining room is a perfectly nice, old style bar-room, with several tables and a long, carved wood bar. Alfred's appears to pride itself on making truly world-class classic drinks, and they certainly do a nice job of it. the appetizers All I really remember about Alfred's starters is that they make their Ceasar Salads ($5.95) tableside. I kind of like watching a waiter pull out a wooden bowl, rub it with a clove of garlic, and whisk in some oil, dijon, anchovy, egg and fresh lemon before tossing in the whole leaf lettuce. What I don't like is whole leaf lettuce, neatly arranged in a row with shavings of parmesan on top and a couple of gigantic croutons. I know it's the classic preparation, but I want my salad served in relatively bite-sized pieces. But what do I know? I grew up in Los Angeles, the home of the chopped salad, which is made for a spoon, but you can eat it with a straw. I'm a freak. You enjoy your Ceasar with the big lettuce. the flesh Alfred's spin on cooking style is to roast its flesh over Mexican Mesquite charcoal. If the mesquite imparts any extra smokiness or flavor or anything else special, I haven't noticed it. The steaks themselves are special enough though. Midwest corn-fed deliciocity aged for a month. A MONTH! That's gross. But what the hell, it's good. They serve three sizes of filet mignon: an 8 ounce ($22.75) a 10 once ($26.75) and a 20 ounce, fat boy! ($49.95). I had the 10 ounce when I was there. They call it "The Executive", which is a better name, I think, than "The Petite" or "The Double." It was as good a steak as I've ever had ... anywhere. Absolutely gummable. You could eat it with a spork. Of course, Alfred's also serves three sizes of New York Strip, a 10 ounce ($18.95), a 16 ounce ($23.95) and a 30 ounce ($39.95). They're probably good too, but they have the same names as the filets (Petite, Executive, Double), and I think at these prices they deserve names of their own. More important than any of this is the fact that they serve three sizes of Porterhouse Steak. Well, that part alone isn't important, because anyone who orders a Porterhouse is a rube. What is important is that one of these Porterhouses – not The Prince ... not The King ... but THE KINGDOM – is 60 ounces. That's almost four pounds of dead cow. It takes an hour to cook and costs $59.50. This is the sort of thing that killed Big Red in that episode of the Simpsons where Homer and Bart had to pick up the pieces of Red's legend and drive his remote control big rig cross country in only two days. If you ever eat this thing – heck if you ever see this thing, I want an email, I want a picture, I wanna be included in your will, cause you're not makin' it much longer. All of Alfred's steaks come with your choice of two of the following: Baked potato, garlic mashed potatoes, veggies, french fries, ravioli or creamed spinach. I've tried all but the french fries. They're fine. Nothing to write home about. For another 3-4 bucks, you can also get sides of onion rings, blue cheese, bernaise sauce, potatoes au gratin, new potatoes or mushrooms. ________________________________________ HARRIS' the room Harris' Steakhouse is about the most elegant, traditional dining room you will eat in. It is sedate, wood paneled with thick moldings of burled hardwood. The dimly lit chandeliers are absolutely huge brass numbers. It's the sort of place that will make you feel like you're about 15% smaller than you actually are, and it'll make a fat man feel normal sized. The booths are huge padded cubbies. The aisles are big enough to drive an SUV down, and the two or three side rooms are larger than they need to be. It's a wonderful, quiet place, except for the 3 piece jazz band that play in the bar room. But even the live music is unobtrusive ... background music of the highest quality. the appetizers Upon being seated, the staff at Harris' is supposed to place fresh bread and some kind of crouton type thing at the table. On my visit, the bread never came until we had been seated for more than half an hour, at which point I noticed that the other tables had been served bread and asked for some. The croutons are simply a bad idea. They're, well, hard and flavorless and they fall apart when you try to spread on some of the herbed butter or plain sweet butter that they serve in small ramicans. Of the appetizers I've eaten at the four steakhouses surveyed here, Harris' are the best executed. I had the Manila clams in broth. My friend had the Oysters. Both were about as good as you'd expect to get at a real restaurant. the flesh Short of Kobe Beef, at about $60.00 for a 6 ounce serving at about twelve places in this county, you're not likely to find any better quality beef in the world than at Harris'. You can find the same quality at one or two places in the biggest five cities in the country, but not better. The steaks, while high in quality, left me a little cold. Part of it was that there was nothing special about the cooking method, part of it was that the sides were so anemic. I had the filet, as always, which cost more than $30.00. I ordered it medium rare, as always, and I supopse that's how it came, but somehow there's a difference between medium rare at one place and medium rare at another. This one was, ya know, cooked on the outside and not so much cooked on the inside. The whole thing was kind of room temp. Sort of pales in comparison to the Ruth's presentation. It came with an ice cream scoop of mashies and some green beans, neither of which added anything to the dish. They didn't fill me; they didn't impress me with flavor. None of this is to say that Harris's steaks aren't great. They are. As I said above, this is some of the best meat you can get. But it is substantially more expensive than equivalent places – as much as 6 to 10 dollars more for similar sized pieces of meat – which left me wanting. Part of my disappointment with Harris' may have been with my choice of desert, which is clearly not a fair way to judge the meat, which was not desert. My friend and I decided to splurge and buy the best port they had on their menu. At $28.00 per glass, I expected some near orgasm inducing tawny, but I coulda sword they dumped some Manischewitz on us. Oh well. __________________________________ IZZY'S the room Izzy's is far and away the most casual of the steakhouses reviewed here. It is crowded and loud and the wall length bar is the featured item in the place. The front is packed with people waiting for tables. The tables are packed together. The people are packed onto their tables and at the bar. It's not a prestige restaurant. It's a saloon that serves big slabs on small plates. But the quality is every bit as good as that of the other restaurants listed here. And what do you care anyway? You're in from Indiana and you don't really know any better. Plus, Izzy's has girl-patrons, which you like to look at. And Izzy's is cheaper than all the other places listed here. And it's in the Marina District, where I'm unlikely to see you. the appetizers Hell if I know. I had bourbon. It was good. the flesh Izzy's is best known for its 16 ounce New York ($19.95). Like all of their beef, it is dry aged for 21 days. I haven't tried it, so I don't know. What I've had is the filet au poivre (around $23.00), which is truly fabulous. If you get this dish, know that it is typically served as two small medallions of meat. But if you ask them, they'll give you a full petite filet instead. I recommend ordering it that way, or you're likely to get a piece of flesh that's a little more well done than you'd like. Izzy's serves the usual side dishes, which come with the steak. Get the Izzy's potatoes, which are delicious, and the veggies, which are the only other non-potato you have to choose from. Conclusions Okay, so there ya have it, fat boy. You want good meat, go to Ruth's. You want good all round food in a mediocre environment, go to Alfred's. You want top notch ambiance, go to Harris'. You want to save a few bucks, go to Izzy's. Get drunk, sell some stuff, clog an artery. ____________________________ [1] Two parenthetical phrases in one sentence does not a Jim Scillepi make, necessarily. So get of my back, eh!  |
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