Thanks Peter
A huge thank you goes out to my friend Peter W who recommended Benjamin’s Steak House to me. As my colon knows all too well - I LIKE steak. I like it ALOT. I’m not afraid of a NY Strip, led by a plate of charred, thick-cut bacon. MMMMMMM. A good, properly broiled black and blue ribeye is second to nothing in my book. Not a god damned thing.
So when Peter told me that there’s a better steak out there then Ben & Jack’s, I had to put his word to the test and find out for myself.
Upon arrival at Benjamin’s, I was greeted like a regular by the maitre’d. I think it helped that I mentioned the Redmen and Pete’s name. Thanks again! I sat on the second level overlooking the modern dining room from up above. Leather bound chairs with men in suits littered the landscape beneath me. Despite it being Wednesday night, I only saw one table available and it was a table for eight. The place was doing a brisk business.
I started out with a Kettle One on the rocks. It’d been a long day prior to my arrival. Another Kettle One was promptly ordered.
Charred, crispy, blackened, THICK Canadian bacon made it’s way to my table. At first appearance, I thought it may be chewy and uneasily cut. I was wrong. Way wrong. The butter knife sliced through the bacon as if it was ice cream. One bite. Two. And that’s all it needed to melt in my mouth and enlighten my palate. It was an intense experience. Almost too intense. I can’t remember the last time I had such rich, crispy yet tender bacon, if ever.
Next course was half a dozen oysters of the medium sized variety. What can I say? They were fresh, icy and delicious. I promptly pulled a David Blaine and before you knew it the oysters had disappeared. Weird.
And then, the greatest feast ensued.
I dined with a friend who isn’t afraid. Fear is simply not part of his vernacular. It was that attitude that led us to ordering the porterhouse steak FOR THREE. Medium rare of course (normally I go rare while my friend orders medium, so we settled on the med rare).
The gargantuan steak arrived.
Midnight blackness covered its facade as if the meat was dipped in a tarred sandy substance. I saw a t bone. And then I saw a gleaming red ribbon tucked away between the slices of carnivorous lore. The steak was perfect. As good as ANY that I’ve ever had. EVER. Each and every bite brought another climactic tender morsel of meat that I washed down with swigs of chilled Kettle One. I ate away and drank away and pushed myself to the very limits of gluttonous expansion.
And you know what? My friend and I ALMOST polished off an entire steak for three. Almost. We were a tad short but that tad has made my doggy the happiest hound in New York!
Benjamin’s, I applaud your steak!!! I cannot wait to eat there again.
