A Thoroughly Amateurish Review of the Beefsteak Club

If you've ever read this blog you probably know about my passionate but depressingly short love affair with Norman's (aka Redford's). It was a beautiful steakhouse that served by far the best ribeye I have ever tasted. I dined at steakhouses in Boston and Minneapolis while Norman's was around and it wasn't close; Fargo was home to the better beef.

However, for all its excellence Norman's had one major flaw: location. Not in the sense that it was situated in a bad neighborhood or far off the beaten path. No, it sat on a major thoroughfare. The problem was the building. Before it became home to the Greatest Ribeye Ever I Et, it was a Bennigan's. Don't get me wrong; they did an amazing job renovating it. It was beautiful, comfortable and exuded "classy" out of its butt. But if you've ever been in a Bennigan's (or anywhere in its family tree: Chili's, TGI Fridays, Applebees, etc.) then you know how big those buildings are. Norman's was far too big to be able to get enough customers in the door. And let me tell you, it wasn't cheap. The menu was a la carte which, as you know, is French for "that costs extra". You easily spent $70 a person there. Now, that's not to say it wasn't worth it (did I mention how good it was?). However,in a smaller market like Fargo you have to think small when it comes to pricy cuisine. The best places in town are all orders of magnitude smaller than a Bennigan's. And with the exception of the Silver Moon Supper Club--which is now Mezzaluna, a very strong contender for "best restaurant in Fargo"--they're all still around. This is because you can get 50 or 60 Fargoans to come and pay $40 for a steak. You can't fill a Bennigan's on a nightly basis with those prices.

Which brings us to Saturday night. Donna and I decided to have a date night so I made a reservation at The Beefsteak Club, the new steakhouse in town. As is the custom of my people we began the night elsewhere (in this case the Hotel Donaldson) with our d' owerder ouer d'ur appetizers and drinks (I had a lovely Manhattan while the lady enjoyed an espresso "martini"--I'd explain the quotes but that's a whole other thing and the internet is only so big.)

We arrived at the Beefsteak Club at 7:30. While the HoDo was rapidly filling up by 7:00, The BSC was nearly empty. There was no one at the bar and there were two tables seated. When I say there was no one at the bar, I mean that literally. There wasn't even a bartender. No hostess either. Not the best way to make an impression. I realized later that there was no hostess on duty--the only server was pulling double duty--and the bartender was also acting as an expediter/food deliverer. Usually when a restaurant only needs one server and doesn't see fit to have a hostess working it's because business is bad. I suspect this is the case at the BSC and I think I know why.

If it hadn't been for an article I read in the Forum, I wouldn't have known this place existed. 

I get the word of mouth thing, I really do. You think, if my food is good enough word will get around. In a lot of cases you'd probably be right. But it doesn't seem to be catching on at the BSC. This place is in sore need of an advertising budget. A 15 second TV commercial. A Sunday newspaper ad. People out on the streets handing out samples. Preferably all of these things. As a side note, I realize that this past Saturday was not nice weather-wise and that certainly depressed the turnout downtown. But like I said, the HoDo was filling up by the time we left to walk the half-a-block to the restaurant, so there were people out that night.

The building is nice, though it looks very different from the Italian joint that used to be there. I can't remember if it was called Stella's or Isabella's when I was last there. I know I only went there once because it was the worst experience I've ever had in a restaurant, and I've been to places that served hobo meat. I wish I had been blogging back then, because I'd have another page to link to. Oh well. Suffice to say, the BSC ownership have nothing to do with that atrocity so let's move on. The current facility is a little echo-y as there isn't a ton on the walls, and what's there doesn't do much to absorb sound. I'm a big fan of the minimalist aesthetic, so I'm okay with the decor. I just wish it was a little less like enjoying a meal in a canyon.

Next to the meal itself the service is the most important thing in a restaurant (and I don't just say that because I used to wait tables). Our service experience was actually quite nice. She brought us both water without being asked once it was clear that we were having cocktails and not soda (seriously, all you aspiring servers out there: if your table is drinking anything other than soda, BRING WATER). She was present but not hovering, which is a danger when you're not overly busy. She was pleasant and had an answer when we asked her what she liked on the menu. Her only mistake was asking me if I wanted steak sauce. I'm not in a Sizzler. My reply to her was a mock-horrified, "I hope not!" All in all a class act. I tipped the hell out of her.

The food was a mixed bag, however. As with Norman's, the menu is ala carte. Despite it's $61 price tag, I beat back visions of starving children in Alabama and ordered the ribeye. Donna had the more sensibly priced filet ($31 for a 10-ounce cut). We rounded it out with a four cheese pasta dish, mashed potatoes, assorted mushrooms (at the recommendation of the server) and a caesar salad. The salad was quite good, a little soggy but nothing to get upset about. Frankly, I think it must be hard to get that right because so many places screw it up royally. The mushrooms were delicious. I would love to tell you what all the varieties are but I didn't have any paper to write the names down and most of them were in Japanese. If you go there--when you go there--get them.

The pasta and potatoes were good, not great. Both were seriously under-salted. Of the two I think the pasta was better. You could get the cheesiness from it and the flavor was there just beneath the surface. It just needed a little salt to bring it out. The potatoes were frankly just mashed potatoes and while you may be thinking, "well, what did you expect", I can make a better version myself.

Price-wise however, the side items are very reasonably priced. Most of them are $4 (the pasta was $6) and easily serve two. This really encourages you to try a lot of different things. Next time I'll try the creamed spinach for sure.

Now, on to the steaks. It would be very difficult for me to say that a place has better steaks than Norman's. However, in this case I don't have to. My ribeye was not as good as the best Norman's used to produce. That is not a slight, though, as the beef was delicious. I mean, really, really good. It was not, however, $61 good. $45 good? Absolutely. $50 good? Yeah, I could see that. Not more than that though. I have no idea what the margin is on that ribeye, but if there's any room to cut it, they should consider it. I do want to emphasize that it was a great steak though. Best in town, frankly, now that Norman's is gone. Tender, cooked perfectly. I realized after a few bites that I was using my butter knife to cut it. I'm not joking. Great marbling. Beautiful cut. It's just not worth $61 (to me anyway).

Luckily I can heartily endorse the filet. It was fantastic. Juicy and tender, ever-so-slightly undercooked for Donna's taste, at least in the center (she ordered medium-rare), but that's the part I taste-tested anyway (I go for rare, baby). Great flavor, beautifully presented. When I go back (and I will) that's what I'll have.

For desert we had a piece of cheesecake the size of Jupiter. Seriously, other, smaller deserts were orbiting this thing. Occasionally a parfait would collide with a streudel and rain sweetness down onto the table. A pecan pie was red-shifted. Okay, I'll stop now. But it was big. Really big. Frankly it was too big. It could easily serve three and probably four people. It was good however, and the presentation was simple but elegant. The blueberries and strawberries however, while visually pleasing, weren't really very appetizing. I'm sure that's because they aren't in season. It might be a good idea to just use whatever fruit is ripest rather than forcing the berries. I'd rather have an out-of-place kiwi or something than unripe and tasteless strawberries.

It's obvious that the chef is still tinkering with some of his dishes as he came to our table after the desert plates were cleared to ask us for feedback. We talked about the need for salt in some of the side dishes and he seemed receptive. We did make an effort to stress to him that we enjoyed the meal and would be back. There's room for improvement in some of the dishes but nothing that can't be fixed easily.

So all in all The Beefsteak Club is a mixed experience, but all the pieces are there for it to become great. The service was good (if a little thin) the food was uneven (ranging from great to middling), but the potential is there; they get the big things right and the little things are all easily fixable. I'll be going back and you should try it too. If it does manage to rise up to the level of a Norman's (and it's not that far away), we need to make sure we don't lose it.

All I Wanted For My Birthday Was Awesomeness Part II: And A Good Morrow To You As Well, My Good Man

As I recounted earlier, Friday night was the time to celebrate my birthday.  My lovely girlfriend Donna treated me to a movie, Inception, which turned out to be good but not great.  That would become a theme for the evening as we moved on to our final destination, the hoity-toity Silver Moon Supper Club.  This is the one fancy-pants place in the area I had not dined at.  It had gotten good reviews from people I know who had eaten there, and as it was the one place I hadn't tried, I said why not.

It is right in the heart of downtown Fargo, which is kinda cool.  The downtown area is in year four of Fargo's 900-year revitalization plan and things are going well so far.  There's still the threat of hobo attack down by the old train station, but that's become pretty rare.  All in all, they're trying so I have to extend some credit where it's due.  But back to the Silver Moon.

This restaurant is billed as "simply the finest dining experience in the world" (or something similar) in its ads.  Needless to say, my expectations were high.  The Silver Moon uses a Chinese restaurant approach to its menu, allowing you to choose one from columns A,B and C for one price, two from each column for another price, or simply pick anything you want from anywhere all willy-nilly at ala carte rates.  Interesting approach and it works fine, I think.

Donna and I like to order different things so we can each try the others' dishes and this was mostly no exception.  I had one fancy kind of salad and she had another; hers was clearly better, and quite good.  I have no idea what it was called.  Mine was a strawberry and lettuce concoction which was fine but nothing too exciting.  So if you go there and want a good salad, ask for the one that isn't the strawberry one.  That will give you a 33% chance of getting the good one, as there were four to choose from.  You could try asking for the one that Donna had that one time, but I don't think we made that much of an impression on the staff during our visit, so, you know, it may not work.

Next we both tried a lobster and crab bisque which some lady in the bar called the chef out from the kitchen to rave about.  I'm not kidding.  When we heard this, Donna and I were all, "we've got to try summa that" and we were poised to get all orgasmy when it hit our pallettes right in the G- and A-spots, respectively.  It was not to be, sadly.  While it was really very good (honestly!) it also more closely resembled a pretty good tomato soup, albeit one with actual fresh basil as a garnish, with a few chunks of seafood for show.  Really good, just not "I simply must extend my personal compliments to the chef" good.  And I've called a chef out of the kitchen to rave about a chili dog before.

Next up were some fish tacos (for Donna) and blackened scallops (for me).  My portion was pretty small, but I can't lie; the scallops were really good and cooked just right.  I have it on good authority from Donna that the fish tacos were good, though I can't personally attest; they were gone before I could ask to sample them.  Happy birthday to me!

Our last course was beef.  I hesitated to order this, but my earlier courses were so seafood heavy I did it any way.  I kind of wish I hadn't.  This is not a knock on the Silver Moon, but I have officially learned my lesson: if you want to eat beef (and pay obscene amounts of money for it) just go to Norman's and be done with it.  There is no slab of beef of which I am aware that can hold a candle to Norman's ribeye.  I've eaten beef everywhere in the area, I've eaten it in the Twin Cities, I've eaten it in South Dakota and I've eaten it in Boston and none of them are as good.  It sounds strange to say that the best steak I can find anywhere is in Fargo, but there it is.

However, with all this said, I haven't spoken of the staff.  We had a couple cocktails at the bar beforehand, and let me tell you that the barkeep there knows how to make a mutha-truckin' old fashioned.  Just really excellent.  Tip-the-bartender-like-money-doesn't-mean-anything-to-you good.  I had a couple more (hey, I wasn't driving) and wow.  Just really excellent.  Go there now and have one.  Then go to Norman's and get a steak.

What took the cake though was our waiter.  Donna described him best, saying he looked like when he leaves work he goes home to the renaissance fairs.  It wasn't the pony tail or the dark eyes, though these things certainly added to the vibe.  It was the way he kept slipping antiquated verbiage into our conversation that cemented the image.  He used words like "mayhap" and "perchance".  He kept calling me "my good sir" and Donna "milady" and "gentle madam".  I briefly contemplated the possibility that those drinks had opened up a wormhole right there in the restaurant and I had been transported to 1629, but discarded it.  They didn't have vinyl seats back then.

All in all, I'd say the the Silver Moon ranks somewhere below the upper echelon of Fargo restaurants, and I'd (sadly) have to rank them below the second tier when you factor in costs.  The food was good -- in some instances very good -- but I can't say the entire meal was worth the price.

All this downerism and negativity may lead you to think I'm crapping all over Donna's efforts to show me a good time on my birthday, but nothing could be further from the truth.  The movie may not have been great, but I really wanted to see it.  The food may not have lived up to expectations, but I absolutely love trying new restaurants, especially when they offer something I haven't seen before.  And really, it's the only place in town where you can 1.) get a first-rate old fashioned and, 2.) get waited on by an actual pre-Enlightenment commoner.

It was a birthday where I got to get dressed up, do what I wanted, experience new things, drink as much as I could and not drive myself home.  It was an incredible evening and I have Donna to thank for it.

All I Wanted For My Birthday Was Awesomeness Part I: For God's Sake, Pick An Ending Christopher Nolan

So Friday night was my night to go and do whatever I wanted.  Since I could stay at home, cook a great meal and drink myself into a stupor while watching a movie, I thought, "why not do all those things somewhere else?"  God, I'm brilliant.  I like getting dressed up.  I don't mean in period costumes -- what I do in the privacy of my bedroom is my own busines; don't judge me -- but rather by putting on a coat and a dress shirt and some good shoes.  I don't have to dress like that for work, very few people like me enough to invite me to weddings, and Death has so far spared pretty much everyone I know.  So once in a while I like to put on some fancy threads and go out on the town.

This explains why Donna and I were dressed to the nines while standing in line to get popcorn at the West Acres cineplex next to the mall at 4:40 pm on an 85-degree afternoon.  We were there to see Inception which radiated all kinds of awesomeness through the TV screen during each and every one of the fourteen million iterations of the trailer.  Everything I read about it was positive.  Everything I heard about it was positive.  And for 2:25 of its 2:30 running time everything I had seen, read and heard was mostly correct.  Then Christopher Nolan went all Captain Ambiguous on me.

Nolan directed and wrote the screenplay for Memento which is a totally awesome mindbending movie that everyone on earth should see.  Inception is a mostly awesome mindbending movie that nearly everyone will enjoy until the ending.

THE NEXT TWO PARAGRAPHS CONTAIN SPOILERS.  IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE THE ENDING RUINED FOR YOU OR HAVE YOUR DESIRE TO SEE THIS MOVIE SUCKED OUT OF YOU STOP READING NOW.

I won't recap the whole thing, as you can read about it here.  Basically, it comes down to Leonardo DiCaprio making it back home to his kids and Michael Caine.  When he walks in the door, he spins his top to see if it falls (long story short, if it falls, he's in the real world.  If it doesn't he's dreaming).  A sense of dread settled about me as the camera panned away from the spinning top to follow Leo to the back door where his kids were entering.  The extended shot was meant to build tension -- would the camera pan back to show a spinning top or one laying gloriously on its side, proving that he was in the real world?  Either one would have been fine.  Despite my penchance for human misery I actually would have preferred that Leo made it back to his kids.  The happy ending here would have seemed right somehow, unlike in most movies where "happily ever after" feels wholly unearned.

I would, however, have accepted the "Leo's dreaming" ending, even if it would have been a bit hackneyed and completely expected.  Instead the dread I felt solidified when the camera moved back to the image of a spinning top that wavered ever so slightly (the top had always spun smoothly in all the dream sequences) once, twice, then... cut to black.  Goddammit.  This was obviously meant to be ambiguous, a chance to let the viewer decide if it was real or not.  I don't know the answer to that, but I do know this: next time pick an ending Nolan.

Haiku Review: Paranormal Activity & District 9

Paranormal Activity

see, it's not that hard
to inspire nightmares though
boyfriend was a douche


District 9

action-doc explores
alternate history of
nigerian scams

Haiku Review: Sherlock Holmes

first rule of fight club
is the fact that sherlock holmes
was never in a fight club

Haiku Review: Twilight

angsty angst angst angst,
angst angst angsty angsty angst
angst angst angsty angst


Bonus Commentary: We watched the bonus features on the dvd, and it was quite funny how, when describing the characters, their motivations, and how the actors went about developing them, every synonym for the word angst was uttered, but never the word itself. I made a joke early in the movie about all the angst dripping from every frame, then ran that joke into the ground for the next two-plus hours. Every piece of dialog, every glance -- jam-packed with angst. It's like there was a sale at the angst store and everything must go. A typical scene went like this:

Pale Vampire Guy: "I no longer possess the strength to stay away from you." (stares angstily)

Pale Human Chick: (stares angstily, swoons)

PHC's Father: "The pot roast is ready!" (looks angstily between his daughter and the kitchen, glares angstily at PVG)

The damage this movie has done to Macy is immeasureable. It's going to take me years to make her understand that teenage boys don't want to just lay on the grass and stare into her eyes for hours. They don't play melancholy pieces in a room with nothing in it but a piano. And they certainly don't drive roller skate-sized electric cars.

Best/Worst Moment: When the pale vampire guy explained how his family didn't drink from humans, but only from wild animals by saying, "it's like being a vegetarian". My reply: "no, drinking the blood of vegetables would be like a vegetarian. I don't think real vegetarians would agree with you."

Fatal Logic Error: Pale vampire guy is over a hundred years old. He's graduated from about 70 different high schools. He has an adult mind trapped in a seventeen year old body. But he's still attracted to high school girls. Creepy, dude. Creepy.

Korean Restaurant Turn Out To Be Japanese, Causes Flashbacks And Rambling Anecdote

Donna and I had dinner recently at Kobe's, a new asian place in Fargo. I mistakenly thought it was a Korean barbeque because there's a sign out front that says "Korean barbeque". The reality is that Kobe's is a teppen yaki place with a menu that ranges across several aspects of asian cuisine.

We sat at the hibachi table so we could experience a professional chef pretend to throw bits of food at us and make jokes whose sole claim to humor was the speaker's inability to speak english. It was totally worth it, as from experience I know that there is always a customer who will provide way more entertainment than the chef. I'll get into that experience and its attendant horrors shortly. First, let's talk about the man I'll call Old Joe, because I can and because I don't know his real name. Old Joe was saddled with poor hearing and an inability to understand that most Japanese restaurants don't actually employ Japanese people. Kobe's has a strong Indonesian contingent (by way, apparently, of New York).

Old Joe asked whereabouts in Japan both our server and chef were from. Despite the answer in both cases being "not from Japan -- Indonesia!", Old Joe was quick to point out his Japan-friendly bona fides by relating that a good friend of his from Hawaii was Japanese and coming to visit this summer. I kept waiting for the inevitable, "I was in Japan in 1945. Seemed nice." line of conversation to erupt, but Old Joe was too crafty for that. Instead, when told that the chef and server liked Fargo more than New York except for missing the Statue of Liberty, he replied with a hearty (if nonsensical), "well Fargo doesn't like you either!" Can't wait to see the photos from the Japanese Hawaiian guy's visit this summer.

The dinner was not all fun and bigotry though. You see, my first job experience was as a dishwasher in a Japanese steakhouse in Columbus, Ga. There, all the staff were Korean[*] except for the dishwashers. It was a terrible job, always coming home smelling like soy sauce and minimum wage, but it was the kind of job you got when you were still in high school. All the chefs were talented and nice to us, even though they didn't speak a word of English. I'm sure that if they could somehow get green cards they could have gotten jobs as chefs where they got paid more than fifty cents an hour.

But the memories that haunt me still all revolve around the owner's wife, who roamed that restaurant looking for reasons to yell at us occidentals, always in korean (she somehow knew less english than the chefs, who knew none) and always for no apparent reason. I'll call her "Grandma", because, well, that's what we called her when I worked there.

Grandma was an old school Korean lady who didn't cotton to those newfangled western ideas of "respect for employees", "wasting time cleaning" or "not putting half-eaten soup back into the pot". I wish I was kidding, but I'm not. I'm not claiming that food brought back to the kitchen from customers was re-served to different customers. That would be disgusting. No, I just mean that Grandma would come though the kitchen sometimes and help herself to a bowl of egg drop soup, eat half of it, then dump the rest back into the pot. No harm there. She did the same thing with the ice cream.

I know what you're all thinking: surely the health inspector closed that place down. You would be wrong. Sorry.

I used to have some fun with Grandma. She had a strange desire to make people think she understood english even though it was obvious she didn't. You could start a conversation with Grandma in which she would nod and agree profusely with whatever you said. A typical conversation would go something like this:

Me: Hey, Grandma, where do you want this tray of chicken?

Grandma: [string of korean words]

Me: Think we'll be busy tonight?

Grandma: [speaking korean, nodding vigorously]

Me: How 'bout that whole invading Panama thing, huh? That's some crazy crap!

Grandma: [speaking korean, nodding vigorously, dumping half-eaten soup into pot]

It took me a long time to eat in an asian restaurant again after working there. I love the food, but I didn't trust the restaurants. Every employee, from the hostess to the server to the chef to the cashier reminded me of the hideous grinning visage of Grandma, who was easily 115 years old back in 1987. But I got over it with time. Don't let this story discourage you. That restaurant has since closed down, and I'm sure Grandma must have passed on by now.

That rambling anecdote was certainly not intended to put you off Kobe's, which was really good. Excellent food, quick service, entertaining employees. Fargo needed more places with character and non-cookie-cutter menus. If you live in the Fargo area or are planning to visit you should try it. But if you see a 140-ish looking woman in there with a bowl of soup, go somewhere else.

[*] Do Japanese people exist? If so, do any of them work in Japanese restaurants? If I go to Tokyo for sushi, will it be served by a Vietnamese person?

Haiku Review / Gaslight Anthem -- The '59 Sound

if e-street was punk

i might be interested

would it sound this good?

Haiku Review / Kung-Fu Panda

fat bear learns kung-fu
and great truths along the way
funny? not so much

She's a Self-Made Man

I recently read Self-Made Man: One Woman's Year Disguised as a Man by Norah Vincent. A thirty-something woman dons the trappings of maleness (short hair, fake beard and bulky clothes to hide her chest) and exposes herself to various bastions of testosterone to try and gain some insight into what makes men tick. As Ned, the author joins a bowling league, a shady door-to-door sales ring, a cloister and a men's therapy group. Along the way she finds out that being master of the universe isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I expected a lot of man-bashing but Vincent presents her adventures in male bonding with surprising gentleness. She finds sympathy for the lowest of the species, including a married man that spends an inordinate amount of time at a strip club and a salesman who uses every manipulation to get money from those who can't afford it. Frankly, she's a lot harder on women in this book.

There is a nagging doubt for me that some of these encounters are fictionalized for effect. I can't really explain it; it's just a feeling that came and went as I read. She didn't really join a priory. Her bowling teammates didn't really just shrug it off when she revealed herself. Maybe it's just the cynic in me, trying to avoid thinking about what I'd do in that situation. I hope so, anyway.

Where the book shines for me is the deliberations Vincent goes through before letting her subjects in on the truth (and before she decides not to tell). It was obviously difficult for her to deal with the guilt she felt hiding her identity.

At any rate, don't let my inner cynic scare you away. The book is a fascinating read.