As we were just settling in to warm their old weathered wooden tavern stool inside, with a cold 8 degrees Brooklyn outside, I noticed a towering wait staff hovering over the unsuspecting customer next to us. The ensuing conversation:

Customer, innocently, “Can we have the menu please?”
Waiter “Sir, is this your first time here?” (with a just-before-check-mate move smile)
Customer, innocently “No, we’ve been here a few times before,”
Waiter “So why on earth do you need the menu for!” (with check-mate grin)
It felt as if someone was asking a lemonade waiter how one gets wet while tanning by a club poolside. But it did not come across as “brusque and curt” as many solemn online reviewers might have you believe it is. Peter Luger Steakhouse is an institution not just in New York but the US. Very much like how No Signboard Seafood Restaurant is to our chilli crabs.

To wipe a year’s full of stress and frustrations off, I huddled for a twenty two hour plane ride in a cattle class seat to release it all in the Big Apple, to watch people skate at Rockefeller Center and ogle at the 5 storey high Christmas tree (it’s cheesy New York, version 1.1) and I love it. Of course I had to tuck into what “Nu-orkers” and guidebooks regard as die die must try in their eatery menu. For burgers, it was, still is, this hole in the wall Burger Joint inside the Le Parker Meridien Hotel in the Westside which has an amazing pattie that is regarded as the best in New York. Their to-die-for pizza is actually a joint that “looks like hell” and tucked away in Brooklyn. But when it comes to the definitive steakhouse, many names crop up. Sparks, B&C, Strip House, Del Friscos etc... and of course Peter Luger, which I have had the pleasure of enjoying before. So, feeling very carnivorous in a cold and snow-less Manhattan, I check out Sparks with buddy Anthony Bourdain. The filet mignon he suggested in this ancient, polished, brassy and very anointed, with greasy history (a gangster boss was shot dead in front of Sparks in the 80’s as the entire service staff was conveniently having a meeting in the kitchen), steakhouse looked just right for his six foot frame. It was a like eating a shoe sized 7 steak to me. It was as thick. Nice, but I could not agree with Tony when I asked for comparisons with Peter Luger. “They just kill the animal and burn it, very disrespectful, not aged well”, he said. Well, if the folks at Sparks did otherwise, perhaps like tickle it to death and then sunburn it, then I much rather the ruthless Peter Luger version. Because I went there the next day still warbling about the marbling of Sparks’ filet. No contest.

The twenty five minute taxi ride out of Manhattan brings you to its doorstep at Willamsburg, Brooklyn. A quieter neighbourhood, until you get inside this century old tavern style woody restaurant. The full “gentlemen’s bar” at lunch was packed and lined with folks praying for some last minute cancellation by smarter foodies who felt these poor folks who did not book three weeks earlier needed salvation. Dinner for December in Peter Luger probably has to be booked in Autumn that same or preferably, the previous year. I had to pester pal Colin Goh, based there, and blanjah (treat) him for the booking and meal. He gladly helped.

Back to the waiter and the customer. Sheepishly, he smiled and reminded the diner that it was still the same. The menu, which was printed on 120 gram fancy paper art card in beige, was so specified and simple, almost kindergarten like. Steak for 1, Steak for 2, Steak for 3, Steak for 4, and the price column next to each was blanco-ed over to reveal the current market price for their only, porterhouse steaks. Sides was spinach mash, French fries (best I’ve had) and a cursory graham cracker crust cheese cake, which the server won’t even suggest unless you spotted it.

Their US prime porterhouse was truly in a league for its own. The online superlatives was not much different from mine- “like butter”, “perfectly marbled”, “holy grail of steaks”, “smooth”, “perfectly charred” and now, die die must try. It came huge (Steak for 3 at U$138), I had no time to weigh nor ask but it looked almost a kilogram, with T-bone intact, enough for the four of us. They tilt the plate as they serve so that the oils, blood and fat collected can double as sauce and bread dip.

I tested for service and brutally asked the server if I could steal one of the menus, but he just smiled and turned away. Then he returned, looking suspicious as he quick scanned around for his boss, then folded a menu into my bag, whispering “ You did not get this from me!”. That’s service. Of course, the tenner he got from an appreciative me was well received.

Peter Luger

Address 178 Broadway (Driggs Ave), Brooklyn, New York

Website http://www.PeterLuger.com

Telephone 718 387 7400 (Advanced bookings compulsory)