Steak 48

Unchain My Heart

I have been on a six month hiatus because as I sat down to write my latest review, I realized that I have nothing left to say.  I have become a tabula rasa.  I am bereft of all original thought.  I perched at my metaphorical Smith-Corona, unboxed a metaphorical sheet of 100 pound foolscap, rolled that metaphorical folio around the metaphorical platen, loosened up my arms, interlaced my fingers, cracked my knuckles and typed over and over and over and over:  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Could this really be the end of my thousands upon thousands of readers spending millions upon millions of hours being entertained by my erudition, insights and whimsical badinage?  Have I finally reached the terminus of my ability to educate the palates of the great unwashed masses of the Los Angeles Basin?  As I ponder upon a midnight dreary, weak and weary, doth the raven quoth “Nevermore?”

I was immobilized in self-pitying depression as if an Emberá Chocó tribesman had harpooned me with a blow dart coated with the secretions of the poison frog, Phyllobates terribilis, when I got a phone call from Ben and Rose Lifschitz.  Ben and Rose still count me among their friends despite our being claustrophobically quartered together on a cruise of the Danube which I memorialized in two inventively and ingeniously named reviews:  Cruising the Danube—Part 1 and Cruising the Danube—Part 2.  Immediately upon hearing my blunted monotone they realized that a drastic course of action was essential.  Having witnessed me demolish a massive porcine wienerschnitzel in Vienna and down an entire Waldviertler pork and beef sausage stuffed with cheese in Salzburg while simultaneously humming Mozart’s “Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen,” the canny and astute Lifschitzes knew that the best solution, rather than referring me for electroconvulsive therapy or a frontal lobotomy, would be meat, meat and more meat.  They suggested a new Beverly Hills chophouse, Steak 48.

The Beverly Hills Steak 48 is the ninth entry in a chain created by Jeffrey and Michael Mastro, who previously founded the eponymous Mastro’s restaurants.  After selling the Mastro’s chain to two private equity firms (who then foisted it onto Landry, Inc., a privately owned, multi-brand dining, hospitality, entertainment and gaming corporation) they decided to get back into the steak biz starting in Phoenix, an appropriate location to resurrect a new chain of restaurants from the ashes of the old.

Steak 48 is located on Wilshire Blvd. in the highest of high-rent locations, tucked in between the Neiman-Marcus and Saks 5^th Avenue department stores.  One enters the Scandinavian moderne exterior from a side-street into a massive multi-room dining area with bar, lounge and glass-enclosed kitchen displaying the varieties of shellfish available to create one’s own customized appetizer tower.

The interior is sleek and chic with parquet floors, dimly lit bubble lamps and furniture designed by Le Corbusier.  The employees were also sleek and chic, from the beautiful hostesses at the front stand to the ruthlessly efficient wait staff to the chefs, sous chefs and sous sous chefs.

Since the reservation was made by the Lifschitzes, who live in the 805, our sleek and chic hostess directed us to a ‘C’ table, subtly placed between the busing station overflowing with the remnant waste of prior meals and the employee’s bathroom.  When I protested that the gorgeous wife and I live within the boundaries of the City of Angels (albeit in the 818), we were upgraded to a ‘B’ table, with adjacent traffic similar to the 405-10 intersection.  After sufficient wailing, whimpering and plaintive mewling, we were eventually escorted into a small salle à manger to be seated with the other wailers, whimperers and mewlers.

The meal began with complimentary popover bread which is presented in a cast-iron bread pan.  The bread is beautifully golden-brown and crisp with a slightly eggy flavor.  It is somewhat over buttery, however, which creates a velvety texture rather than the typical soft airiness of a popover.  I would have preferred a lighter baguette or sourdough to begin an anticipated gastronomic bacchanal.

The chopped Napa salad is a delightful mix of colors and textures with radicchio, cucumbers and heirloom cherry tomatoes dusted with toasted sesame seeds.  The fresh, herbaceous greens base is balanced by the crisp, cool bite of the cucumbers and the sweetness of the fully vine-ripened tomatoes.  A subtle white balsamic vinaigrette dressing with a touch of miso honey complements the salad with a touch of tanginess.

Conundrums have perplexed the human mind for millennia.  Does God exist?  Are we alone in the universe?  What is the meaning of life?  Why serve a Caesar salad with a warm poached egg?

After viewing the shellfish display on our journey from the C table the B table to the A table, we had an irresistible impulse to order the Colossal Shrimp Cocktail.  Enormous prawns, glistening with freshness, are artfully arranged on a bed of ice accompanied by lemon, house-made cocktail sauce and “atomic horseradish.”  The shrimp are tender, yet firm, with slight sweetness that blends wonderfully with the zesty cocktail sauce and the bite of the horseradish.

The true test of a steakhouse is of course the steak.  We sampled the Rolls-Royce of steak cuts, the Bone-In Filet Mignon.  At Steak 48 the steaks are prepared with a double secret rub whose recipe can only be deciphered by an Enigma machine and then seared in a broiler nicknamed “The Ninth Circle.”  They are presented on a blisteringly hot plate with a touch of butter and herbs.

To complete a classic surf-and-turf, land-and-sea, reef-and-beef meal we added the North Atlantic Twin Lobster Tails.  Tender, succulent lobster tails are broiled and served with drawn butter and paprika.  A harmonious combination of the sweetness of the crustacean with the earthiness of the steak.

To accompany the main courses we ordered classic sides of French Fries and Corn Crème Brulée.  The french fries at Steak 48 are served truffled and salted but since I once had a near-fatal allergic reaction to a chanterelle while in Paris which required mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (fortunately by a Brigitte Bardot look-alike) and my cardiologist has removed all added salt we ordered the fries plain.  What was served was…plain fries.

The corn crème brulée, however, is a unique twist on the classic creamed corn.  Sweet corn is mixed with heavy cream and minimally refined brown turbinado sugar that retains some molasses to marry the vegetable with a custard consistency and sweetness that is almost appropriate for dessert.

To honor Ben’s father, who invented the Sacher Torte (as you can read about in Cruising the Danube—Part 2) we chose the Ultimate Dessert:  warm vanilla caramel cake with vanilla gelato, whipped cream and homemade toasted brown sugar cinnamon pecans.  Rich, sweet, smooth, crunchy, scrumptious.

Well Braindoc, one may ask, what is your counsel?  Should we rub elbows with the celebrities, the heavyweights, the cynosures in the beau monde of Steak 48?  If you do deign to ask, my forthright and honorable opinion is that this chain restaurant, as fine as many aspects are, lacks the je ne sais quoi, the indescribable, the Mona Lisa appeal of independents such as Lucky’s, Dear John’s or even Monty’s in, God forbid, the Valley.  Unchain my heart.