Men’s Health magazine – a publication that focuses on fitness, nutrition, health, style and more – happens to be the largest circulated men’s periodical in the world.
So, you can imagine how pleased and proud we were a few years back when, unbeknownst to us, Men’s Health named MANNY’S as one of the “TOP 10 STEAKHOUSES IN THE WORLD?” Not the best steakhouse in downtown Minneapolis… Not in the state of Minnesota or the Upper Midwest… or even the United States – but one of the 10 best on the PLANET!!
Now…a bit of humility. Yes, we know MANNY’S is good…indeed, very, very good.
But a host of other steakhouses all around the globe are also very, very good. Any number of them easily could have been included in this list.
Nevertheless…we were honored to be recognized for what the entire Manny’s team has accomplished.
I’ll bet you are wondering about the other nine honorees. Who are they? And how did they make the Top 10?
Well, I’ve dined at five of the other award winners – some several times – and can tell you a bit about them.
To nobody’s surprise, PETER LUGER made the list. So did RELAIS DE VENISE in Paris and HAWKSMOOR in London. Down under, in Sydney, is ROCKPOOL and in Buenos Aires there’s DON JULIO.
They’re all very good. All deserving. All quite different.
Peter Luger doesn’t need much of an introduction. Lots and lots of my blog followers have been there. And lots and lots of them have been immensely pleased. Well, mostly pleased. They’re not so enamored of Luger’s cash-only policy – NO CARDS!!!! Others chafe at the gruffness of the waiters (no women among them). “OK folks, here’s what you’re gonna do here,” says your server. “You’re all having the Porterhouse steak for 4 ($286). Then a Tomato & Onion Salad, followed by Onion Rings and German Hash Browns ($18) and finally Apple Strudel Mit Schlag (whipped cream).”
On our last visit there, with Parasole colleagues, Joanne timidly interrupted the waiter’s schtick by asking about the live lobster. He snapped, “Lady, don’t you know where the hell you are?”
(Normally I wouldn’t let anyone talk to Joanne like that. But I was hungry. And duty called.)
One curious thing about the servers’ gruffness: Not only does it convey an attitude, it also serves to speed the dining process considerably, as your waiter basically decides what you’re going to have and places the order without your actually agreeing to it. Seriously. It’s part schtick, part table-turnover strategy.
Anyway, if you can put up with – or find any humor in – your server’s delivery, and if you don’t mind being hustled out of there in about an hour ! – you will be rewarded with an exceptionally juicy, well-charred, buttery, fork-tender, dry-aged steak.
Like Manny’s, Peter Luger is a “guy’s place that women love.” Unlike Manny’s, it’s also a place where regulars are treated much differently than the rabble (you can identify the regulars by the leisurely pace of their meal, and by the $1,000 bottles of Cabernet on their table). Something else you might notice here: the striking number of young blonde “nieces” dining with their much older “uncles.”
Want a different vibe? Fly to Paris and get in line at RELAIS DE VENISE at Porte Maillot in Paris, just behind the Arc de Triomphe. You can enjoy the view while you stand outside waiting for a table to open…no reservations.
Once seated, you’ll be served a set menu that runs about $40. Waitresses (not a waiter in sight) take your wine order and only ask you how you like your meat: BLUE? RARE? MEDIUM? That’s it. No medium-well, and certainly no well-done. Crusty hunks of warm French baguette and a small, crisp green salad arrive along with your bottle of perfectly good table wine (all choices in the $25-45 dollar range). Then you’ll receive a portion of sliced sirloin topped with their signature house green-herb butter sauce and accompanied by a slew of golden fries (think McDonalds. Yes, they’re that good.)
When you finish your first portion, a second round of steak and fries will be served. BTW, the fries are unlimited.
Relais de Venise is not “all you can eat,” but it certainly is generous. And don’t pass on the profiteroles, which run about $8 bucks. Relais de Venise is loads of fun.
Next on the list is the British chain, HAWKSMOOR, with several locations in London and elsewhere in England.
When Joanne and I began going to Hawksmoor, their restaurants were in basements, no doubt to save on rent. But the spaces were squat with low ceilings and basically decorated in shades of brown…not the most uplifting environment. However, the drinks were stiff, and the steaks were pliable and juicy premium Scotch Beef. For appetizers we enjoyed caviar bumps atop grilled sea scallops. Spiny lobster and lobster rolls are offered, and a particularly satisfying rendition of sticky toffee pudding headlines the dessert offerings.
We dined there on a busy Sunday night and both of us had THE SUNDAY ROAST, which is a long-held Sunday tradition throughout England. Hawksmoor was absolutely my inspiration for bringing the now very popular, value-focused Sunday Roast to MANNY’S.
ROCKPOOL (now closed), the brainchild of renowned Australian restaurateur Neil Perry, resided in the buzzy heart of downtown Sydney. The dramatic marble-clad space had soaring ceilings (perhaps it was a bank before it was a restaurant) which contributed to the dreadful acoustics that marred an otherwise delightful evening.
The menu offerings might be considered slightly exotic for American palates. Joanne cringed as I snapped the heads off the Jumbo Head-On Prawns appetizer and dipped them into a remoulade-like spicy sauce.
The steaks were not the dry-aged, grain-fed cuts that dominate the menus of high-end American steakhouses. Rather they were at two ends of the spectrum. At the low end, Rockpool served grass-fed beef (not very good). At the upper end was Wagyu – very, very expensive and very rich.
But what caught my attention was the trio of char-grilled “MORELAND BAY BUGS.”
Perhaps you’re asking yourself, “Just what the hell are Moreland Bay Bugs?” Well, they’re not insects. They are crustaceans that resemble lobsters, except they have a pre-historic alien-like look with broad primitive heads, flattened antennae and no claws. Most of the delicious white meat is in the bugs’ lobster-like tail and they are popular all along Australia’s East coast from Brisbane to Melbourne.
For the less adventuresome, Rockpool’s beefy pappardelle laced with sinfully rich braised short rib morsels was quite good.
Next stop: Buenos Aires and DON JULIO PARRILLA.
Now, a parrilla refers to a restaurant that slow-grills hunks of cow over a wood fire and embers…kinda like BBQ. It’s probably the most popular cooking method in restaurants throughout meat-obsessed Argentina.
The history of the parrilla dates to the gauchos (Argentine cowboys) and their tradition of grilling and eating every part of the whole animal – and I mean EVERY PART (more on that later).
Buenos Aires has legions of parrillas, and all are pretty much alike. Even Don Julio. For example, as you enter the restaurant, you walk by a long red-hot flaming grill manned by four or five sweat-soaked grill masters.
One way this steakhouse distinguishes itself is not with its beef but with its…tomatoes. They celebrate ‘em. You proceed to the TOMATO BAR and select a big fat heirloom tomato for your table. Your server takes note, then returns shortly with tomato intact and promptly gets to work. He cuts it into quarters, drizzles a generous measure of olive oil on the wedges, and sprinkles them with a shower of sea-salt flakes.
The Argentine steak cuts often depart from what you’ll find in America. The ribeye, for example, is called an “Ancho de Bife” and doesn’t quite look like the version we’re accustomed to seeing. Nevertheless, it’s a smoky, delicious steak. Likewise, short ribs are dubbed “Tira de Asodo.” They’re fall-off-the-bone tender, juicy and also smoky.
Remember, I said earlier that every part of the animal is used? Well, Don Julio gives new meaning to “every part.” On the menu at most parradillas, including this one, was an item labeled “CHINCHULINES.” I was game and ordered a small platter of the deep-fried little ringlets with a squeeze of lemon juice.
BIG MISTAKE! Unbeknownst to stupid me, they were veal intestines. Chomping into my first (and only) bite, I gagged. I wretched. I WRITHED and SPIT it out on the table. They tasted like s**t (or so I imagine, since I’m not much into coprophagy).
But do not let that discourage you from booking a table to Don Julio. Everything else was superb.
Just don’t order the CHINCHULINES (unless you are a certain kind of person).
JUST DON’T!!!!
WTF
PHIL