New Yawk New Yawk

In my quest for the best I found out a couple of things about Peter Luger. They don't take credit cards--except for their own. And that it's impossible to get a table around the dinner hour on a Friday, even if you reserve over a MONTH in advance. Christ alive . . . I'm glad we don't have those problems here in Montreal.

The woman I spoke to to make a reservation, which I actually got, for 7:45 on a Thursday, had a charming, almost parody-of-a-New-Yawker voice. Just like in the movies.

Below is the Luger menu, hard to find online (click on it to enlarge). Read it and weep!

The Ultimate Steak?

Okay, dudes and dudettes, I'm baaack. Except instead of returning to the quest of the ultimate steak money can buy to be made by oneself, it is a quest for the ultimate steak prepared by someone else.

I speak, of course, of Peter Luger.

Steakhouses bore me. I've never met one I liked. Gibby's in Montreal was awful. Queue de Cheval was a joke, almost a parody of a steakhouse. A couple I've been to in San Francisco, although famous among steakhouses, were so unremarkable I can't even remember their names.

But Peter Luger — well, it's the Mount Everest of steakhouses. And I'm going there, in March.

The trusty video camera will be along for the ride, along with a serious debit in the Mastercard balance — and maybe a can of mace for the inhabitants of the neighborhood. Full report to follow.