I dream about steak like a normal girl dreams about her wedding. I’m more concerned with how my steak is cooked than the color of my bridesmaid dresses. This is why my mother cries at night.
People have always told me to try Peter Luger Steak House, yet I had never been until this past week. Once again, we were celebrating my Dad’s birthday, (who does he think he is having an entire week dedicated to his birthday?) but I can’t really complain because Peter Luger’s was his treat so thanks pops!
We went to the one in Brooklyn on the night of that crazy tornado, but it didn’t stop the crowds of people waiting for a table. There was even a party bus parked in front of the restaurant. Never a good sign. Luckily they were there for a party upstairs so they didn’t cause us a longer wait. This place was not an uptight steakhouse like you’d see in Manhattan. It was full of Guidos and businessmen and young people on dates. Big ups to the guy for choosing a steak house to impress his girl…hope she’s not a salad eater! If it doesn’t work out – call me.
Speaking of salad, we ordered the tomato and onion salad and I wouldn’t exactly call it salad. Would you call this salad?
I would call it sliced tomato and onion. We did get crumbled blue cheese AND blue cheese dressing to put on top of it, so at least that got me to shut my trap. Cheese has that affect on me.
Also as an appetizer, we ordered bacon by the slice. At first I thought this was strange as I have been known to demolish whole plates of bacon in one sitting. Peter Luger bacon compared to regular bacon is like comparing The Hulk to Mr. Miyagi.
It was bigger than my plate! The bacon was so thick I felt like I was cutting into human flesh. It was delicious!
If my discussion of meats disgusts you, I would recommend you turn back now as I have not yet shown you the main event. Look out!
I give you the Porterhouse for 4. Rare. There is no other way to eat meat. It was pure. It was real. It was love.
It needs no sauce, although they say they are famous for their Peter Luger steak sauce which tasted like cocktail sauce. I don’t happen to like cocktail sauce on my steak, but to each their own right?
We also had the german potato side and the creamed spinach side which only added to the meal. Whenever I eat spinach I wish I could photoshop my head onto Popeye’s body, but alas I don’t have Photoshop nor the skills to use it and also I am insanely lazy. So just imagine it. Funny right? I’m ripped! And tattooed! Don’t tell my Grandma!
You can’t have a birthday dinner without dessert, so we ordered pecan pie, but it was just alright in comparison to this baby:
A bowl of homemade whipped cream (aka “Schlag” which sounds dirty no?) topped with a birthday candle.
So simple and beautiful and no it isn’t Hanukkah but why is there gelt?
I have no idea, but dip it in the Schlag. Just do it.