As a card-carrying carnivore I view steaks as comfort food. Well-prepared quality beef with the appropriate sides can send me into a state of rapture. Substandard materials and/or preparation leave me very unsatisfied, and given the prices charged by most establishments, poorer for the experience in both purse and purpose. Normally I refuse to review franchise restaurants because I believe great culinary art is not a commodity and can’t be reproduced at will from a corporate protocol. (“Hey Gauguin, I need two water lilies and a starry night; hold the moonbeams.”)
Still, our recent dinner experience bears examination and comment. Our reservation was honored despite the surprise appearance of the hatchling. A highchair was cheerfully provided and no one batted an eye. The wine list was presented and contained several respectable bottles which could be ordered without arranging for a second mortgage. We ordered a nice bottle of a 2009 Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon and encountered an uncomfortable moment. The cork was not presented until it was requested. Given the absolute price of the bottle (though it was relatively modest in context) and the not unreasonable concerns one might have about transportation and storage in a tropical climate, presenting the cork instead of making it disappear would have been appropriate. When presented the cork was fine, and the wine deliciously rich with blackberry and cedar flavors mingled with a bit of earth. Complex and full-bodied enough to compliment and contrast with the beef.
We ordered the beef carpaccio, crab-stuffed mushrooms and a wedge of iceberg lettuce with bleu cheese dressing as appetizers. A loaf of warm, but not crusty, fresh bread was placed on the table and the feast began. The lettuce wedge and dressing were nothing extraordinary, but totally consistent with expectations. The stuffed mushrooms were interesting, but again, nothing distinguished them from other recently consumed fungi, except that as a matter of personal preference, Murghk always lightly sautés the caps before stuffing them and finishing them under the broiler. The carpaccio was outstanding. Incredibly thin slices of beef bedded on fresh lettuce with just the right amount of a light horseradish dressing, a bit of capers, a dash of onion and beautifully plated to play the red, green and white against one another and suggest the flag of dish’s country of origin. OK, maybe a really good corporate protocol can describe how to plate an offering attractively.
It had been a long day, and the hatchling began to lose his equanimity. Several attempts to amuse him failed, and his parents did the right thing – they requested their dinners to go so that the hatchling’s discomfort would not upset other diners. Ruth’s Chriss’ staff handled the situation brilliantly. The entrees (a ribeye and a petit filet), which were plated and table-ready, were repackaged quickly and efficiently. The sides (broiled tomatoes and island corn) were identified and added to the parcel. It was all done with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of goodwill. This left Milady and I alone to enjoy our dinners – no matter how much the hatchling’s presence might have added.
Milady prefers her beef with just a touch of pink remaining; I, on the other hand, insist that once the refrigerated chill is gone, dinner is served. Each of us received our filet exactly as ordered. Ruth’s Chriss advertises that their steaks are cooked at 1800˚ and brought sizzling to table-side on a 500˚ plate so they stay hot. I’ve always wondered whether a steak on a 500˚ plate would continue to cook even as it was being eaten. It doesn’t really, though I am at a loss to explain how that works. The beef itself was tender, flavorful, nicely presented, and otherwise undistinguished. The accompanying asparagus were barely cooked, which is the way both Milady and I find it most appealing. It didn’t need the Hollandaise Sauce – freshness is its own reward. The detritus left by the departing parents and hatchling were swiftly and discreetly removed, but the untouched wineglasses were left for our enjoyment. A thoughtful touch which did not go unnoticed, and made up for the earlier faux pas with the cork.
Milady is a consummate expert on cheesecake (she makes the most delicious Italian and New York styles when I’m not trying to maintain my flying weight) so her opinion is highly valued when a restaurant presents it as a signature dessert. Ruth’s cheesecake was really, really good. Smooth, luscious, melt on your tongue and flow down to your tonsils cheesecake. One slice contained enough calories to eliminate starvation in a third world country, but the beauty of it is that you hardly can think about anything but the flavor.
My judgement of Ruth’s Chriss is mixed – the food was very good, but without the excitement and flair great dining should engender, the service was largely outstanding, and the prices astronomical. I would call it a place for carnivorous comfort food if one is on an unrestricted financial footing.