The RibeyeM.P.
rib · heavy marbling
The people’s champion. Fat is flavor and the ribeye knows it. Reverse-sear it thick.
From the Broiler
All steaks are served at the correct temperature — medium-rare — unless begged otherwise
New York StripM.P.
short loin · firm, beefy
A tighter grain and a fat cap that renders into glory. Hot and fast.
Filet MignonM.P.
tenderloin · lean, buttery
Tender to a fault, quiet on flavor. Wrap it in bacon if you must; nobody’s judging. (We are.)
The PorterhouseM.P.
strip + filet, bone-in
Two steaks, one bone, zero compromises. Feeds two, or one ambitious person.
The TomahawkM.P.
ribeye with a handle
A ribeye that went to theater school. Pure spectacle. Worth it.
PicanhaM.P.
top sirloin cap
The Brazilian secret. Thick fat cap, skewered or grilled whole, sliced against the grain.
House Specialty
Santa Maria Tri-Tip
bottom sirloin · red oak
California’s own. Rubbed with salt, pepper and garlic, grilled over red oak the Santa Maria way, sliced thin against the grain. Pinquito beans and salsa optional; seconds mandatory.
Photos via Wikimedia Commons and Flickr: kurmanstaff (CC BY 2.0), sousvideguy (CC BY 2.0), user Ɱ (CC BY-SA 3.0), Jon Sullivan (public domain), Flo2323 (CC0), Christian Benseler (CC BY 2.0), eekim (CC BY 2.0). Cropped and resized.
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Which Cut Are You?
Six questions. Answer honestly; the butcher can tell.
House Rules
Posted by order of the management
- Turkey is a bird of lies. Dry, enormous, and eaten out of obligation. We are done with obligation.
- Gratitude is best expressed medium-rare. Nothing says “thank you” like a properly rested ribeye.
- There shall be sides. Garlic bread, salad, fries, whatever. The sides are not the point. The sides are welcome.
- Leftovers are steak sandwiches. Not turkey sandwiches. Never again turkey sandwiches.
- No one shall be forced to eat well-done. No one shall be allowed to, either. We are a tolerant people, but not that tolerant.
- The Festivus pole goes up the day after. Aluminum. Unadorned. Grievances about turkey may be aired.
Words of Wisdom
Overheard at the table, over the years
You don’t win friends with salad.
Favorite animal: steak.
You know, I know this steak doesn’t exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize? Ignorance is bliss.
People who order their meat well-done perform a valuable service for those of us in the business who are cost-conscious: they pay for the privilege of eating our garbage.
“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp, or bloody as hell?”
“Bloody as hell.”
Red meat is not bad for you. Now blue-green meat, that’s bad for you.
Inquiries
Can I bring a turkey?
No.
What if I really like turkey?
You’re free to make your own mistakes on non-holidays.
What about vegetarians?
Portobello “steaks” are tolerated, respected, and seared with exactly the same care. Steaksgiving is a big tent.
Is pumpkin pie still allowed?
Yes. We’re revolutionaries, not monsters.
When is Steaksgiving?
The fourth Thursday of November, same as the bird holiday it replaces.
What seasonings are acceptable?
Salt, coarse and plenty. Black pepper, fresh-cracked. Garlic, if you’re feeling festive. A rub on the tri-tip is tradition. Butter is not a seasoning; it’s a lifestyle. Steak sauce is a confession.
Ketchup?
Leave.
Hall of Fame
Steaks of Steaksgivings past. Send in your finest sear; the judges review every entry before it’s immortalized.
The grill is cold… for now. Be the first.