By David Minsky
By Nicole Danna
By Sara Ventiera
By Candace West
By Emily Dabau
By Doug Fairall
By Candace West
By Laine Doss
I had the same concerns with a 22-ounce rib steak ($42). These rib cuts, like the porterhouse, are usually intense, because the bone generates so much flavor. Again I found most of the pleasure coming from the carmelization and the char, not from the meat; one bite even had the weird consistency of jelly. I thought back to the aged New York strips a houseguest brought us from Whole Foods not long ago. He gave them a light rub, tossed them on a charcoal grill, and served them with chive butter. You took one bite and you wanted to kiss the hooves of every steer that had ever traded its life for your dinner. New York Prime's steaks weren't in the same ballpark; they weren't even playing the same game. Note to the tightwad: You can do this at home, and better. We ate our steaks with a yummy bottle of 2005 Mount Veeder Cabernet Sauvignon ($65), one of the best bargains on a gigantic and pricey wine list.
There were glass-shattering high notes to this meal, but they had nothing to do with the meat. The cheese mashed potatoes ($11.50), made with American cheese, were a pot of creamy-salty-starchy bliss. How we wished we'd nixed anything remotely healthful (garlic spinach, at $12, was bitterly disappointing) and gone instead for the creamed corn, the onion rings, the hash browns, or the giant Idaho potato loaded with bacon, chives, sour cream, and butter.
Still, we got our calories in when the key lime pie arrived ($9). Southerners really know how to make a girl pucker up: double lime custard, the right ratio of sweet to sour, topped in waves of freshly whipped cream. This pie is the key lime to aspire to.
Our bill came to $205 without tax, tip, or drinks. Drunk, stuffed, and considerably poorer, we'd relinquished any lingering revolutionary ardor. And maybe that's the hidden agenda. Eat the rich? It's so much pleasanter to eat with them.