Chelsea's Chew and Run Fun

Holy whoa. I don’t even know what to say about last night’s dinner, other than, it was the best meal I’ve ever eaten while visiting or living in NYC. In fact, I bet it’s safe to say that it’s the best meal I’ve ever had.

Food can be symbolic, or a relic of a certain time in one’s life. For some harried and poverty-stricken grad students, Top Ramen has become a daily staple in their nutritional vocabulary. For a kid, PB & J with a nice cold thermos of milk is the embodiment of their lunch pail. For me, steak reminds me of my dad. Really, really good steak, that is.

When I was eight-years-old, my Mom wasn’t around for a while (long, personal story) and for the most part, it was just my dad and me fending for ourselves. Considering he was a single parent, working a full-time job, and raising a Third Grader…he did a great job and I respect him immensely for it. My dad’s no handyman in the kitchen, so we often just ate the two or three dishes he made really well over and over. Meatloaf, lasagna, and Filet Mignon.

Every payday, my dad would buy two Filet Mignons, broil them up, and we would then go out to Tower Records (RIP) where I would be allowed to choose four “Goosebumps” books, and he would buy the latest and greatest remastered classic rock album, usually something by “The Beatles” or “The Rolling Stones.” It was either the steaks or Sam’s Hof Brau for payday dinners, both were delicious and spectacular.

Last night, while eating the best cut of filet mignon I’ve ever had at Craftsteak, my sense memory overwhelmed me and I got a bit sentimental. I don’t know many people who cry over steak, but I suppose I’m strange in that regard. I had to stop and explain myself to my good friend, Ian, as to why I was getting all gushy about beef. With each bite of the melt-in-your-mouth-like-a-pat-of-butter steak, I thought about that time in my childhood…when it was just Pops and me, doing the best we knew how without a Mom around…one bite at a time.

Before my tongue was struck with an delicious wave of nostalgia, I had a snack after the power yoga podcast so I wouldn’t chew my face off before dinner:

Crackers, Hummus, and Cheese w/a Glass of Yerbe Mate

I then proceeded to dress for the occasion of going out, by putting on my Grandmother’s pearls:

Pearls=Fancy, Even If You Wear Them With Sweat Pants

I took a nice, quick-paced walk across town (probably around 1.5 miles, many, many avenues were crossed) and crossed through the neighborhood and Hotel that inspired my name:

Legacy of Distraught, Brilliant, Freaky Artists. I'm Proud To Share The Same Name.

So yes, dinner was phenomenal, and I apologize for the extremely dim pictures (I didn’t want to turn my flash on out of respect to fellow diners), but I was a little too busy enjoying my meal to snap photos of every dish. These pictures truly don’t do justice to the presentation and glory of the meal, but hopefully it’ll give you a sense of how Craftsteak doesn’t mess around:

Savory Butter Rolls to Get Started

Glass of Zinfandel (So Smooth and Delicious)

Our (Very Darkly Lit) Spread. Sauteed Swiss Chard, Filet Mignon (Med-Rare), Yukon Gold Puree, NY Strip (Med-Rare)

Sauces for The Steaks (I Went With Tamarind)

Sauteed Swiss Chard (They Did It Perfectly, Which is Hard to Do with Greens)

Yukon Gold Puree (Such Buttery, Potatoey Goodness-Don't Think Mark Bittman Could Put It Better Than That)

And, don’t hate me, but the steaks, the star players did not turn out well in the photos. Needless to say, they had a beautiful presentation and were topped with fresh Thyme. Craftsteak has a very interesting and authentic French method of preparing their meat, check out their website for further info.

Here’s what my plate ended up looking like:

Seemingly Small Portions, But Incredibly Rich and Filling

It’s worth mentioning that while Ian and I were gabbing excitedly about this and that (I haven’t seen that kid in at least two months), we kept interrupting our conversation with EVERY SINGLE BITE to pause, savor, and relish our fantastic meal. Now that’s a sign of good eatin’.

Of course, we couldn’t resist dessert:

Pumpkin Souffle (Served w/Creme Fraiche to Drizzle on Top)

It was all just insanely delicious. Afterward, Ian and I jet up 10th Avenue to 42nd Steet to see “The Starry Messenger.” The play was quite humorous, well-written and directed, and touching. Matthew Broderick embodied his character so perfectly (it was basically the same character he portrayed in Election). Though, it’s worth mentioning, that even during the most intense moments of the play, I couldn’t stop reliving dinner in my mind. Ha!

Ian and I concluded our evening by grabbing a night-cap at a nearby gay bar/sushi lounge, Bamboo 52:

Glass of Merlot (Tasted Like Garbage Compared to The Yummy Glass of Zin I Had Earlier)

Out of 4 Stars, It was a 10 Star Evening.

Until my next chew!