Steak-Out

"...A T-Bone Steak/ Cheese, Eggs, and Welch's Grape..."

Last week I decided to take "Wifey" to one of the O.C.'s premier steakhouses for a special dinner out. Now, Dookie readers, yours truly is not the biggest "splurger" when it comes to eating out. A fixed-quality, low-price meal at a sports bar/restaurant, even a franchise, is fine with me. But, feeling the need for a little romance and a little change-of-pace, I surprised my better half with a trip to an ostensibly better and more exclusive eatery. Or so I thought.

Now, I don't know if the R.D. is just cheap, or perhaps cursed when it comes to these things, or if the American way of life has just taken a turn for the worse in the age of iPods, MySpace.com, and two MTV channels which play absolutely no music videos. But in my opinion, if you are going to drop $150 in an hour or so at a highly-rated steakhouse, the owners of such establishment owe you at least a touch of class. Take the "cl" off of class, and that was exactly what we ended up getting.

First of all, we showed up in formal attire expecting a high-class experience. Strike one -- Upon being shown to our table, we passed obnoxious parents with their loud kids, seedy dudes with half-unbuttoned shirts with chest hair sticking out of them, and college-aged sweethearts with no clue. Strike two -- Our meal experience fared no better. The bisque was way too salty and the quality differed between our two bowls. The drink waiters would fill our water up if it was missing even 1 oz. of water before our food came, then disappeared after the entrees were served. "Wifey" wanted to order a dry, Italian red wine to go with her steak, yet the "extensive" wine list at this place had no Italian red wines. We waited forever between courses.

Our fellow customers were even shittier than the wait staff. Next door to our room was a large party who felt like they owned the place. Two fat girls kept getting cell phone calls, and, I shit you not, left the room next door to come into our room and stand next to our table and talk on the phone. What's worse, they passed several waiters who did nothing about it. The decibel level inside the place was only slightly lower than Monday Night Football in Indianapolis, and for the entire night, we were by far the best dressed customers in the entire dining room.

Another thing that bothered us -- the entire dinner menu could fit on two pages. The cheapest lobster cost like $60 and was way too large for one person to finish. And we had our choice of a whopping four dessert selections, all of which were read aloud to us by the waiter who expected to memorize the choices and order sight unseen, without the aid of a dessert cart or a menu (or a price list, for that matter). Although at the very end of the meal, our waiter did offer to give us one of our two desserts free because we were celebrating a special occasion, I felt that that was more of a "tip ploy" than a generous offering [plus, I almost couldn't hear his offer over the unbelievable din of the patrons]. Besides, at that point, it chipped a negligible amount off our enormous bill.

Towards the end of the evening, I did a little mental comparison between this "premier steakhouse" and my favorite local restaurant/bar. First, I listed everything I hated about eating at a casual dining place: noise level, crowd, limited menu, indifferent and recalcitrant wait staff, obnoxious fatties with cell phones, and long wait times. Then, I compared that list with every advantage of eating at a "high class" place -- hmm, nuh-uh, nope, no, nada, and close, but no cigar. Strike three, and yerrrr out!! There was absolutely nothing different about the steakhouse, except that the prices were about three times higher for half the selection of appetizers and entrees. In fact, I'd wager that the service was actually better at some of the more quality-minded casual places I like to frequent, like the "Ale House."

Folks, I know most of you out there like to splurge a lot more than I do. And, I'd bet a few of you upper-crust readers would just respond that I found a bad egg, and that I really don't know what I'm missing by skipping out on four- and five-star eateries to go pound $5 pitchers and hot wings at my favorite bar. However, if any of you out there in blog-o-land are too poor or too uncomfortable to attempt experiencing the ambiance of a gourmet restaurant, I can tell you that based on most of my experiences, you're not missing that much. Furthermore, my retort to all of you five-star candy-asses out there is this -- Ignorance is Bliss!