Steak Date

I was in the mood for steak - a really great steak. I could almost taste it - as I sat in a florescent newsroom with sound from the Nifong hearing, space station computer update, and Ruth Graham funeral bagpipes barreling through my ears. As the minutes until my departure diminished, I knew I wanted meat... juicy, medium flamed, beef. And potatoes. And buttered bread. I wanted chandeliers and dimly lit booths. I wanted beautiful wooden and ornate wall hangings. I wanted gorgeous waiters in bow ties. I wanted a dizzying wine list. I wanted it all. And last night, I got it.

Hit up Frankie & Johnny's steakhouse on W. 37th. After reading dozens of great reviews of the place, it was never not within my sight. Date night proved the perfect opportunity to test run this gem... in the midst of midtown porn shops and abandoned warehouses. I grabbed it for Saturday night, and made a reservation.

The place was perfect, the conversation seamless, the porterhouse fantastic, and the after-dinner treat unbelievable. The restaurant offers a complimentary limo service. So we hopped in, and went to go see Knocked Up. Hey, at least the first half of date night was sophisticated. The latter half was hilarious. Perfect date night.