Blair Perrone Steakhouse

Note: Blair Perrone closed in 2008.

*

Nowadays, it seems every waiter with a Peter Luger stint on his resume wants to open a Luger clone in Manhattan. With Mark Joseph, Ben & Jack’s, Flames, and two outposts of Wolfgang’s, you are never very far from a faux Luger experience. The newest of the Luger offspring is Blair Perrone, which opened in late 2005. It’s the brainchild of Charlie Blair, who worked at Peter Luger in Great Neck, and Joe Perrone, who was a manager at Mark Joseph.

By steakhouse standards, Blair Perrone offers a comparatively refined atmosphere for your meal. The gargantuan restaurant occupies almost an entire city block between 47th and 48th Streets, with panoramic picture windows looking out on a fairly uninteresting stretch of Second Avenue. If only such a view were on the waterfront. The interior is dominated by the predictable dark wood paneling, but the tables are generously spaced, the seating comfortable, and the double-height ceilings give the usual steakhouse cocophany room to dissipate.

The menu is entirely unoriginal. Thick Canadian bacon ($3.25) was served in the usual Luger style. The NY Strip ($39) came pre-sliced on a sizzling plate, but the exterior char wasn’t as crunchy as the better examples in town, and the marbling was uneven, with several slices at the end not really worth eating. Creamed spinach ($9.50) was pedestrian.

Service was friendly and very good to start with. Joe Perrone himself came over to my table twice to say hello. But as the restaurant filled up, my waiter gradually lost touch with me as, other parties started to compete for his attention. The bread service (a basket of home made onion rolls) was excellent. I didn’t order dessert, but the choices were the usual steakhouse fare. Indeed, you could easily overlook them, as the after-dinner menu is dominated by an impressive selection of cognacs, brandies, single-malt and blended whiskies.

I was encouraged to see a wine list with plenty of choices between $35 and $50. In common with most steakhouses, wines by the glass are not listed on the menu. If you ask, the server simply says, “Merlot, cabernet, pinot noir, zinfandel, or shiraz.” At these prices, can’t they be bothered to put it in writing, so that you at least know what you’re ordering? Anyhow, I didn’t feel overcharged for a $9 glass of pinot noir, but I still don’t know what it was.

If the wine list is gentle on the pocketbook, the other prices are not. At the superior Wolfgang’s, the NY Strip is $36.50, the bacon is $2.75, and the spinach is $8.95. For some items, the differences are even larger. For instance, Blair Perrone serves a 40-ounce ribeye at $48, while the ribeye at Wolfgang’s is $36.50. I am not sure if Wolfgang’s serves a 40-ounce cut, but I’ve had it several times, and it is more than most people can consume, assuming you’ve ordered appetizers, side dishes, and wine.

The attractive space is Blair Perrone’s selling point. But it is surprising that owners who took such care in remodeling the space didn’t have a single original thought in the design of the menu. They have done a competent job at reproducing the standard New York steakhouse, a durable format that seems to do well almost anywhere. But unless you have other reasons for a visit to East Midtown, you might as well visit another steakhouse closer to home.

Blair Perrone Steakhouse (885 Second Avenue between 47th and 48th Streets, Turtle Bay)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: *
Ambiance: **
Overall: *

Lonesome Dove Western Bistro

Note: The Lonesome Dove Western Bistro closed in March 2007, not long after it had opened, after receiving mostly terrible reviews.

*

The Lonesome Dove Western Bistro carries a 27 out of 30 Zagat food rating in Dallas. If it were in New York, that would put Lonesome Dove on a par with such standouts as Alain Ducasse, Chanterelle, Gotham Bar & Grill, Masa, and Veritas.

Celebrity chef Tim Love has opened a New York branch of the Lonesome Dove. His version of western cooking is fun, but the restaurant is befuddled with service problems and has already received one pan at the hands of the Post’s Steve Cuozzo. Based on our experience last night, I suspect more are coming. [Update: The critics did indeed give the Lonesome Dove a thrashing, with both Adam Platt (NY Mag) and Frank Bruni (NY Times) awarding zero stars.]

The signature dish is called the Tomahawk Chop, a portion for two that includes a 24–30 oz ribeye with an 18-inch “tomahawk” bone (Love designed the cut himself), a lobster tail, seared scallops, yukon gold mashed potatoes, and baby asparagus. The menu doesn’t show a price, a conceit whose absurdity Frank Bruni has already pointed out. Are they hoping people will order it without realizing they’re on the hook for $125? [Update: Per Bruni, the restaurant denied they were trying to trick anyone. The price ($120) is now printed on the menu.]

Anyhow, we already knew the price and were happy to give the Tomahawk Chop a try. There is nothing subtle about Love’s cooking. The scallops, asparagus and steak were slathered in butter. Did such a heavily marbled cut as ribeye need any more fat? I wasn’t sure what Love did to make the mashed potatoes and the lobster so spicy, but they both packed plenty of heat. Even a margarita came laced with jalapeño peppers. The whole meal was solidly prepared, if not transcendent.

The staff at Lonesome Dove are enthusiastic about the food, and they don’t hesitate to tell you so. Their enthusiasm doesn’t translate into good service. It took ages to order a drink at the bar. Getting a bar tab also took forever (they would not transfer it to the table), and finally I just plopped down cash. Once seated, we asked for tap water, but none arrived. Our server asked us about water again later on, having completely forgotten that we’d already asked for it. We ordered wine; a few minutes later, she was back to clarify what bottle we wanted. A wonderful warm homemade bread was served with butter, but no butter knife.

We had probably the worst seat in the house, looking directly into the open kitchen. We don’t blame the restaurant for this—after all, someone has to sit there. But if the kitchen is open, it ought to be neat. What we saw was a cluttered mess. A server dropped a pair of tongs; she picked them up, shrugged her shoulders, and took them out to the dining room to serve food with. Another server appeared to sneeze into a customer’s water glass. The washroom clearly hadn’t been cleaned in hours, as used towels had overflowed the wastebasket and were covering the floor.

All of the chefs wear cowboy hats, including Love, who was in the house. Our server boasted that if we ordered the Tomahawk Chop, Love himself would personally carve it for us tableside. Someone carved it for us, but not Love. (We did see him carve a steak at one table, and share a glass of tequila with friends at another.) I couldn’t care less who carves my steak, but servers shouldn’t be selling an audience with the Great Man unless he is able to follow through. The server at our table didn’t even leave that gorgeous 18-inch bone behind for us to admire; at another table, they did.

Chef Love takes credit for the décor, but it’s nothing to be proud of. There’s a cowskin carpet outside, a stuffed buffalo head on the back wall, some cheesy watercolor paintings, and a lot of exposed brick. The ugly space is at war with the false elegance of the white tablecloths. The wine list is a serious one, but it’s presented as loose sheets fastened to a clipboard. In everything it does, Lonesome Dove fails as a fancy restaurant, but it also fails as a rustic cowboy restaurant.

There is much that is clever in Tim Love’s cuisine. I’d love to come back and try the prairie butter (buffalo bone marrow), the kangaroo nachos, the quail quesedillas, the deer chops, the wild boar foreshank, or the stuffed tenderloin. But what Love clearly needs is a service manager—someone who will whip the lackadaisical staff into shape. As we were leaving, we asked for business cards. The hostess produced a card for the Dallas restaurant’s beverage director, wrote a New York number in pencil (having first looked it up on a computer screen), then handed it to us. Doesn’t that sloppiness just sum up what’s wrong with the Lonesome Dove?

Lonesome Dove Western Bistro (29 W. 21st St. between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Flatiron District)

Food: *
Service: needs a ton of work
Ambiance: unimpressive
Overall: * (just barely)

Update: The restaurant closed in early March 2007. Tim Love contacted me by email shortly before the restaurant folded. He said:

In your review of my restaurant you do not make one comment on the flavor, texture or presentation of the food. While you did comment on the water color paintings (which are actually oil), the buffalo head (which is actually a Hereford steer) and a clipboard for a wine list (which is actually a cowhide mounted with saddle spurs made by one of the most famous saddle makers in the world, Leddy’s).

Love conceded that service was sub-par in the restaurant’s early days, though he insisted the problems had since been fixed. He felt that I, like other reviewers, were criticizing West-of-Mississippi cuisine without having any basis for evaluating it. He thought it was like dining at Lupa, and comparing it to a sushi bar.

Love’s message gave no hint that the restaurant was about to close, but as the announcement came just a few days later, clearly he must have known. He probably thought that the New York critics were out to get him. Truthfully, I wanted to like the Lonesome Dove. I just wasn’t wowed, particularly given the sloppy service and stratospheric prices.

STK

The Meatpacking District is surprisingly light on the commodity it’s named for: red meat. There’s the Old Homestead, which has been in the nighborhood since the streets were lined with prostitutes, and Craftsteak, which technically is in Chelsea. Frank’s, a mediocre Italian steakhouse nearboy, is also technically in Chelsea. That leaves the new STK (“ess-tee-kay”) as the only Meatpacking District steakhouse that actually feels like the neighborhood.

A look at the website will have you quickly doubting whether STK is at all serious about, you know, steak. The splash animation begins with the word “SCENE” in white letters on a fucsia background. The word “STEAK” fades in and out; then “SEAFOOD”; then “SALAD.” On the main page:

The bustling bar scene is the centerpiece, the menu is inspired, the DJ creates the sexy vibe and the atmosphere is relaxed.

Party rooms are called “Lillie St. Cyr,” “Do May,” “Tempest Storm” and “Candy Barr.” The design renderings (here, here, here) suggest a restaurant with everything but steak on its mind. All three feature lithe twenty-somethings in short skirts, in what appears to be a moody nightclub setting. From the pictures, it’s not even clear that there’s any actual dining tables. The opening invite does nothing to dispel this impression. It shows a leggy model in a red micro-dress, from behind, holding a cleaver and a steak on a meathook. The caption reads, “Not your daddy’s steakhouse.”

For all that, STK’s menu (PDF) offers much to be thankful for. Steaks come in three categories: small ($18–26), medium ($29–59) and large ($49–74). It’s a welcome change from the typical steakhouse, where your choices are limited to large and humungous. There’s also an ample selection of non-steak entrées ($24–46). By far the most expensive of these is a funky-sounding dish called Surf, Turf & Earth, which includes tuna, black truffles, and foie gras. Salads ($10–18) and appetizers ($11–20) include most of the usual suspects, but foie gras french toast ($20) and shrimp rice krispy’s ($14) sure seem worth a look.

I ordered the bone-in rib steak ($36). It had a strong flavor and was cooked perfectly to the medium rare I’d requested. If it wasn’t the best rib-eye I’ve had, it was certainly superior to the one I had at Porter House NY last week. You can choose from among six steak sauces, such as salsa verde and blue butter, but I chose the house STK Sauce, which added a commendable bit of spice to an already good steak. Although listed in the menu’s “medium” section, at 24 oz. this rib-eye is an impressive hunk of meat. You had better be hungry if you order the Cowboy Rib-Steak (36 oz., $49). The hefty steak knife, by the way, is one of the more impressive specimens I’ve seen. “Be careful,” the server said as he dropped it off.

Side dishes ($9) include many of the usual suspects, but Parmesan Truffle Fries were intriguing enough to be worth a look. They came stacked like lincoln logs, with each fry about half-an-inch square, and about four inches long. I thought perhaps they’d be better if they weren’t quite as thick, but I suspect they’ll be a hit with many diners.

The wine and liquor list is very reasonably priced, with an ample number of bottles under $50. A glass of 10-year tawny port was only $10.

I would normally end my review here, but I want to report on the drama that took place a couple of tables away. A married couple that looked about twenty years too old for the restaurant had both ordered the sirloin ($38). They asked to speak to a manager. “This is the worst steak I’ve had in my life,” the man said. His wife concurred. They practically shoved their plates in the manager’s face, declined her offer to re-do the steaks or send out something else, and asked for the check.

I assumed that was the end of it, but a few minutes later out came the chef, Todd Mark Miller. He introduced himself, explained that he was “new to the project,” and did all but get down on bended knee and beg the couple to allow him to re-do their steaks. Miller also offered to comp a foie gras appetizer, which the couple would not accept. But they did finally agree to accept new steaks, which Miller said he would cook himself.

A short while later, out came Miller with a parade of busboys, with two freshly cooked sirloins (which he again reminded them he cooked himself) and extra side dishes. Miller insisted on waiting till the couple had tasted the steaks, to ensure they were done correctly. For the first time, the man smiled and nodded his head. His satisfaction must have been sincere, because he did finish the steak, and his wife left only a little behind.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a chef do more personally to try to please two difficult customers. It impressed me even more because—well, it seems indelicate to say so, but this couple seemed so out-of-place in the neighborhood. They could tell all their friends to avoid STK, and it wouldn’t really make a difference, insofar as the management’s intended demographic is concerned. But the restaurant was determined to make it right, when they could just as easily have given the couple their check, and forgotten about them.

As the publicity photos suggest, STK does have an unusually large bar space, but there are also two dining rooms and an upper level with four private rooms and a private cocktail area. A rooftop café with a separate menu will open next summer. The rock music sound track is not unreasonably loud. The clientele is generally young. The two women at the table next to me, both about 30, each ordered a blue iceberg lettuce salad and steaks from the “small” portion of the menu. They’re the kind of diners who will love STK, but probably wouldn’t choose a conventional steakhouse.

If my dining experience wasn’t transcendent, it was perfectly solid. Much more of the menu looks to be worth exploring. The scenery is easy on the eyes, and the service is just fine.

STK (26 Little W. 12th Street between Washington & Greenwich Streets, Meatpacking District)

Food: *
Service: *½
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Porter House New York

Note: Click here and here for more recent reviews of Porter House New York.

The Restaurant Collection at the Time-Warner Center was meant to be the most luminous assemblage of chefs ever gathered under one roof. Each of its five restaurants was considered a New York Times three or four-star candidate. Some, like Masa and Per Se, lived up to their promise. Café Gray has had its problems initially, but now seems to be flourishing, with a Michelin star to its credit. Charlie Trotter’s restaurant never opened, and a clone of TriBeCa standout Landmarc is to replace it.

Then there was V Steakhouse. With cuisine by Jean-Georges Vongerichten, it should have been a sure thing. But it never recovered from a devastating one-star review by Frank Bruni and a menu featuring $70 steaks. It was the first Time-Warner restaurant to fail, and also Vongerichten’s first failure. Replacing it is—guess what? Another steakhouse.

Porter House New York is run by chef Michael Lomonaco, formerly of Windows on the World. Luckily he had a pair of eyeglasses to pick up on September 11, 2001, or he would have been at work, and would have perished along with 3,000 other people. He’s a popular guy, and he has a lot of folks rooting for him.

Porter House opened over the October 1st weekend. In a show of goodwill, the restaurant offered 20% off the bill for the first week of operation. It would be nice to see a few more restaurants do that while they work out the inevitable early kinks. Plenty of people had heard about it. I had trouble getting a prime time reservation, and the restaurant was packed when we arrived at 8:30 on Friday night.

It used to be that Manhattan steakhouses were so predictable you could write the menu in your sleep. In recent years, a breed of haute steakhouses has emerged, led by such standouts as BLT Steak, BLT Prime, Quality Meats, Craftsteak, and alas, V Steakhouse. These restaurants have the usual steakhouse staples, but more creative menus and a less “clubby” atmosphere.

Like these haute steakhouses, Porter House aims at a broader audience. On Friday night, one of the tables near ours was a family of seven celebrating a birthday. Another was a family of three, including a young child, out for a casual dinner. Neither group would have chosen Sparks or Peter Luger. Porter House has a cool elegance that makes it suitable for a fancy night out, but without V Steakhouse’s gilded trappings that scared away families and casual diners. A buzzing bar area with two wide-screen TVs is another signal that Porter House doesn’t want to be taken too seriously.

The menu, however, is not all that creative. There are a few more seafood entrées than you see at some steakhouses, but for style points it has nothing on BLT Steak or Quality Meats. I ordered the smoked salmon to start, my friend the clams casino—both standard steakhouse dishes. The salmon came with a clever garnish of tomato, avocado and chickpeas.

My friend is partial to the ribeye ($36), so we both had that. It was served off the bone, and although cooked to the correct temperature and nicely charred, the marbling was uneven. Overall, it was well off the pace of the city’s better ribeye steaks. Side dishes were priced mostly at $9. I enjoyed creamed spinach with bacon, but my friend thought that french fries had been left under a heat lamp for too long.

Service was not unfriendly, but has a long way to go. Food took a long time to come out. At the table of seven next to us, one diner got his steak long after everyone else. Two side dishes came out (with profuse apologies) after the meal was almost concluded. At our table, the lemon from my friend’s appetizer course was left behind after the other plates had been cleared. The spinach came without a serving spoon. Mid-way through the meal, our waiter just disappeared for about half an hour.

The wine list is mostly American. It is about as expensive as you’d expect for this kind of restaurant. We were able to find a red that pleased us for around $60, in a peculiar category called “Interesting.” I didn’t know there was a grape by that name.

I think Porter House will do well, as its informality serves a definite need. Judging by the crowds, it has already caught on. But judged in the cold light of day, Porter House is not the creative tour de force of a BLT Steak or BLT Prime, and as a classic steakhouse it’s not preferable to either Wolfgang’s or Strip House.

Porter House New York (Time-Warner Center, 10 Columbus Circle, 4th floor)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: **
Overall: *

Harry's Steak

I visited Harry’s Steak last week, having dined at the companion Harry’s Café a couple of months ago. I went in with a steak on my mind, but the server talked me into other selections, and they were so good I just have to mention them.

Canadian bacon is common at New York steakhouses, but Harry’s version ($6.50), hickory smoked in-house, is served with the bone, and apple sauce on the side for dipping.  I’ve never seen bacon served that way, but as good as it was, I was only too happy to gnaw the bone clean after polishing off the bacon.

Most steakhouses have a crab cake appetizer, but here too Harry’s made it special. Their version ($15.75) was served in a shallow pool of shrimp bisque—again, a unique touch that shows an extremely thoughtful hand at work in the kitchen.

At another table, I heard a guy telling his companions that Harry’s is now his favorite steakhouse. As he put it, “You can go to Sparks, wait for an hour, and have a mediocre steak; or, you can come here, get seated immediately, and have an excellent one.”

Once again, the restaurant was not full. Both servers that came to my table were rather obviously “up-selling” me, but service was otherwise a happy experience. The steakhouse is in the former wine cellar, but it has been totally redone and is quite comfortable.

Harry’s Steak (97 Pearl Street at Hanover Square, Financial District)

Food: **
Service: *½
Ambiance: *½
Overall: **

A Tale of Two Steakhouses

For a more recent review of Craftsteak, click here. 

This week, I head meals at two steakhouses I’ve reviewed before: Wolfgang’s TriBeCa and Craftsteak. Both appear to be midlly struggling restaurants, although for different reasons. Wolfgang’s had lengthy opening delays. I’ve been in there twice now, and while the restaurant certainly doesn’t seem to be failing in any sense, it certainly doesn’t have the heavy crowds that the original Wolfgang’s did. It appears you can walk in just about any time and get a table.

Craftsteak ought to have been a sure bet, with a celebrity chef/owner (Tom Colicchio) who has been successful wherever he went and a brand name (Craft) that has always stood for quality. But the restaurant was pilloried in one review after another for the same highly peculiar reasons: Craftsteak didn’t know how to cook a steak; the menu was over-wrought and wordy. How hard could it be? Manhattan is overflowing with competent steakhouses. Surely steak is the one thing a steakhouse should know how to prepare. But apparently Craftsteak did not. In two separate interviews, Colicchio admitted they had blown it, and he even arranged an amicable split with partner Danny Meyer at Gramercy Tavern so that he could focus on his Craft properties.

At Wolfgang’s this week, I ordered the New York Strip. At $36.50, it is one of the better steak prices in New York City. It came sizzling hot, perfectly charred on the outside, achingly tender on the inside. The steak was sliced in the traditional Peter Luger style. My server not only served the first several slices, but kept returning to my table to serve more. For quality and attention, it could not be beat. Wolfgang’s is a traditional steakhouse, populated mostly by businessmen. It is not for everybody. But in its genre, Wolfgang’s is doing a superb job.

At Craftsteak too, it was no problem to just waltz in and ask for a table. Unlike Wolfgang’s, Craftsteak has the trappings of a high-end restaurant. I actually saw two tables with only women seated. There was a tasty amuse-bouche of a cube of goat cheese on a thin wafer. At the end of my meal, a plate of petits-fours was dropped off. Wolfgang’s has neither. Both restaurants have better-than-average bread service, but Craftsteak’s piping-hot Parker-house rolls in a cast-iron serving dish are some of the best in the city. A side dish of Wagyu confit potatoes was excellent.

Both the dinner and the dessert menu at Craftsteak are reprinted daily. (At Wolfgang’s, it probably won’t be reprinted until the prices go up.) The menu has changed considerably since the last time I saw it. It no longer prints the biography of every slaughtered cow it sells, although there is still a choice between grass-fed and corn-fed beef. The strip steak is now offered at three different ages (28, 42, and 56-day), rather than six. The Wagyu offerings have been simplified too. The old Craftsteak was offering far too many options.

But ultimately, we must judge a place like Crafsteak for its steak. And again last night, Craftsteak stumbled. I decided to splurge for the New York Strip aged 56 days. This is apparently the house’s signature item. At $52, it is the most expensive entrée you can order, except for Wagyu beef and steaks for two (porterhouse or ribeye, $88). I also thought it would be a useful comparison to the strip at Wolfgang’s, which is only $36.50.

Early on, Craftsteak was criticized for not putting a char on the outside of its steaks. The menu still says roasted, so I explicitly asked for a medium-rare temperature with charring on the outside. “Pittsburgh medium rare,” my server responded. I have never heard the term “Pittsburgh” applied to steak, but he assured me that this meant it would be charred. If the steak was charred, you could have fooled me. There was no char on the exterior that I could detect.

Inside, the steak was indeed medium rare, but it was tough and chewy. This is what 56-day aging gets you? Wolfgang’s doesn’t tell you how long their strip steak is aged, but for $15.50 less, the New York Strip at Wolfgang’s runs circles around Craftsteak.

I decided to give dessert a try. A pound cake topped with raspberries and ice cream was wonderful, as indeed was everything about Craftsteak that isn’t a steak. If Tom Colicchio could only figure out how to prepare a steak, he might have a three-star restaurant. But what good is a steakhouse that can’t do steak?

Wolfgang’s TriBeCa (409 Greenwich St. between Beach & Hubert Streets, TriBeCa)

Food: **
Service: **
Ambiance: *½
Overall: **

Craftsteak (85 Tenth Avenue, between 15th and 16th Streets, Chelsea)

Food: mediocre steak, everything else very good or excellent
Service: **½
Ambiance: **½
Overall: *

Wolfgang's TriBeCa

I’ve been to Wolfgang’s Steakhouse in Murray Hill several times. It’s like Peter Luger in Manhattan, except that they take credit cards, the menu has more variety, and the serving staff are a whole lot friendlier. Steakhouses are my great weakness, so I was delighted when a branch of Wolfgang’s was announced for a building literally across the street from my office. Construction was plagued with delays, and it finally opened only a few weeks ago.

As an aside, Wolfgang’s TriBeCa was supposedly the first construction permit granted in New York City that fell under a new law that any public accommodation must have twice as many women’s bathroom stalls as there are men’s stalls. It’s a little ironic that Wolfgang’s would be the first, given the male-dominated clientele of most steakhouses.

The new space is considerably larger than the Murray Hill flagship. There are actually some soft surfaces in the room, so you don’t feel like you’re in an echo chamber, as you do uptown. The menu is identical in both restaurants. Prices are a bargain by steakhouse standards, with most steaks for one priced at $36.50, and the Canadian Bacon appetizer still priced at the ludicrously-low $2.75.

My friend had never had the Luger-style Canadian Bacon, so I persuaded her to give it a try. When you see the price of $2.75, you figure it has to be a microscopic portion. But I’ve learned from experience that one slice is all anyone can eat. And on this occasion, the bacon slices were even larger than I remembered them. They may be 85% fat, but boy are they good.

My friend does not care for porterhouse (Wolfgang’s specialty), so we both ordered the ribeye. The marbling was a bit less even than some of the better ribeyes I’ve had lately, but the meat was wonderfully tender. The aging program at Wolfgang’s is obviously working to perfection. A creamed spinach side dish was perfectly prepared, and I was happy to see a good bread service, with some delicious onion rolls.

The wine list is a little on the expensive side, but we were able to find an fine cabernet at around $50. Service was friendly—even Wolfgang himself came over to check on our table. It was a Friday night, and the restaurant was doing a decent business, but was not full. Those who were there seemed to be mostly couples from the neighborhood. But there was a boistrous table for 12–14 men in ties, most likely investment bankers. On most weeknights, I suspect this will be Wolfgang’s core clientele.

Wolfgang’s TriBeCa (409 Greenwich Street between Hubert & Beach Streets, TriBeCa)

Food: **
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *½

Harry's Café and Harry's Steak

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Harry’s Steak.

When I started working on Wall Street in 1989, Harry’s at Hanover Square was the quintessential “good ol’ boys” restaurant. Located at One Hanover Square in the landmarked India House, in the heart of the Financial District, it catered primarily to brokers and investment bankers. A big horseshoe-shaped bar dominated the space. It wasn’t known for its food.

Harry Poulakakos retired a few years ago. The space was carved up; two restaurants on Stone Street now occupy space that was formerly part of Harry’s. The main restaurant was closed for approximately 2½ years. Harry’s son gutted the place, and it has now re-opened as two separate but connected restaurants: Harry’s Café and Harry’s Steak. (Papa Harry is still associated with the place, as an advisor.)

The two technically have separate entrances: Harry’s Café at 1 Hanover Square, Harry’s Steak at the adjacent 97 Pearl Street. They are listed separately on Zagat and Menupages. But they have a common website, and apparently a common kitchen. The steak restaurant, which is smaller, is located in the former wine cellar of Harry’s at Hanover Square.

The steakhouse menu has pretty much the standard items and price structure that you would expect in Manhattan. The café menu has some of the steakhouse appetizers, but only one actual entree in common (the Dry Aged New York Strip on the bone, $41). The café’s entrees are more eclectic, with everything from lemon sole ($22) to “the original crackling pork shank” ($25), whatever that may be.

I was actually looking for the steakhouse, but wandered into the café instead. The staff advised that the café doesn’t normally offer the full steak menu, except on weekends, when the café is open but the steakhouse is not. But they let me order from the steak menu anyway. I chose the bone-in rib steak ($38.50). This was an enormous hunk of beef, possibly two inches thick before cooking. It was perfectly marbled and aged, and comparable to the two best ribeyes I’ve had in New York, at Strip House and Nebraska Beef.

At the café (but not the steakhouse), steaks come with fries and creamed spinach without any extra charge. There was no way I could finish all that food, but I noted that the spinach was excellent. The helping of fries was enormous and could easily have served several people. The bread service was above average.

Service was friendly and efficient. There was a bit of a delay in getting my steak out of the kitchen, and although I did not complain about it at all, they comped a glass of wine anyway. The décor is still in the burnished mahogany of the old Harry’s, but the space seems a bit more open and inviting.

The restaurant wasn’t full, but they have only opened recently, and are still building word-of-mouth. The clientele seemed to be a mix, rather than the pure Wall Street types you used to see in Harry’s at Hanover Square. The fact that the café is now open seven days a week speaks volumes to how the financial district has changed. Back in 1989, you could roll a bowling ball down Broad Street on a Saturday without striking anyone. It’s now a family neighborhood, with residential conversions on just about every block.

Harry’s Café (1 Hanover Square) and Harry’s Steak (97 Pearl Street), Financial District

Food: *½
Service: **
Ambiance: *
Overall: *½

It’s hard to judge by just one visit, but based on what I saw yesterday, Harry’s is doing an impressive job.

Quality Meats

Quality Meats is a new entry in the sub-genre of luxury steakhouses, a niche occupied by itself, BLT Steak, BLT Prime, and Craftsteak. Characteristic of the category, the décor is significantly more upscale and chick-friendly than the typical steakhouse, the wine list more serious, the side dishes more carefully thought out, and the prices are several dollars more per entree than the already expensive standard set by NYC steakhouses.

My friend and I gave Quality Meats a try last night. We found it a tad superior to Craftsteak, although with a few reservations. The restaurant offers a 64 oz. double bone-in rib steak for two, for $110. We’re both fans of the ribeye, so we gave it a try. This was enormous, sliced tableside, with more of a “prime rib” taste than usual for a solo ribeye steak. We asked for a preparation between medium and medium rare, which the kitchen executed perfectly. We brought the ample leftovers home.

The amuse bouche was a deviled egg, which struck us as unusual at this type of restaurant, but the kitchen did a fine job with it. They also sent out freshly baked dinner rolls, which were sinfully good. For appetizers, my friend had a salad, while I ordered the bone marrow ($9), which was excellent. While we awaited our steak, a server came over and prepared a terrific home-made steak sauce tableside. I don’t normally use steak sauce, but for this I made an exception.

For side dishes, we ordered the crispy potatoes ($7), which came in a hot pan, over which garlic butter was poured at the table. The effect was upscale potato chips. An order of grilled asparagus ($8) was wonderful. To go along with this, I found a very reasonable pinot noir. The total for two, before tip, was $215, which for a meal of this quality in New York was quite reasonable.

If the story ended there, I’d give Quality Meats a solid three stars. But there were a number of glitches with the service. When we asked for the double ribeye, we initially did not want appetizers, as we knew we were in for something huge. Our server warned us that the ribeye would take 90 minutes to prepare, and asked if we wanted to reconsider the appetizers. We were baffled as to how a steak could take 90 minutes, but we took her word for it and ordered appetizers. In the meantime, our steak appeared 35–40 minutes later.

We would also like to have been told that the steak came with about a pound of mushrooms and glazed onions, in which case we wouldn’t have ordered two side dishes on top of that. Lastly, we were subjected to unctuous upselling at dessert time. We were full at that point, but the server tried to break our resistance: “Are you sure you don’t want any dessert? Perhaps an ice cream to share?” On an already expensive bill, this bordered on offensive. We held our ground, but it was annoying nonetheless.

For a restaurant of this size, the noise level was manageable. The AvroKO décor is spectacular, but the tables are small and close together. Indeed, there was not room on our table for everything we had ordered, and our server had to commandeer the next table over, which fortunately was not yet occupied. I don’t know what they would have done had it been a full house.

I’m sure I’ll be back to Quality Meats — a steakhouse this good deserves to be on everyone’s list. I sure hope they’ll get their service team knocked into better shape.

Quality Meats (57 W 58th Street, East of Sixth Avenue, West Midtown)

Food: ***
Service: *
Ambiance: **
Overall: **

Delmonico's

In my never-ending search for perfection in steaks, I gave Delmonico’s a try last Thursday night. Delmonico’s has been operating at its present location since 1838. It is presently configured as a steakhouse, which is a wise choice in the financial district, because it seems bankers can never get enough steaks. The menu is pretty much the standard fare, at the standard prices. I tried the ribeye ($38), which is my benchmark for excellence in steaks these days. It was one of the better ones I’ve tried, though not on a par with nearby Nebraska Beef or Strip House.

The restaurant does get brownie points for ambiance, though. It is a comfortable and well-appointed space with white tablecloths and handsomely-dressed waiters, that makes you feel like you’re having a special night out.

My only complaint was with the wine service. When I asked for wines by the glass, the server said, “We have a merlot, cabernet, pinot noir, shiraz,” etc. This seems to be a peculiarity of steakhouses, where they don’t have a written list of wines by the glass, and you are only told the grape—not the producer, the region, or the year. At steakhouse prices, why can’t they tell you what they’re serving?

Anyhow, I was pleased with Delmonico’s overall and would be happy to visit again.

Delmonico’s (56 Beaver St, at William & S. William Streets, Financial District)

Food: *½
Service: *½
Ambiance: **½
Overall: *½