The Carnivore's Dilemma
What better way to celebrate an anniversary than with meat? With expensive meat!
El Gaucho became known to me through its full page ad in Alaska Airlines Magazine. The ad copy was written by some fellow named Quinn Travis, who calls it "the Quinn T. Essential steakhouse." I will not name any child of mine Quinn just to prevent them from having the ability to make that pun.
The ad was notable to me for the following (paraphrased) passage:
I frequent all the big-name Seattle steakhouses, and occasionally the others have an off night, where the service isn't quite right or the meat isn't quite done to perfection. But I've been to El Gaucho many, many times and they've never had an off night.
There's only one response to that: Fuck you for having the financial and gastrointestinal means to be able to boast about frequenting all the big-name Seattle steakhouses.
El Gaucho does come highly recommended by actual people not writing ad copy, so it seemed fine for the anniversary. What can be said about a good steak cooked to perfection? Not much. It's great, and that's that. It came with "Southwest Scalloped Potatoes" that were both tasty and southwestern-tasting; they actually tasted like they had jalapenos in them, unlike most things you see advertised as "southwestern." Bananas Foster, prepared tableside, is their signature dessert, and it was frickin' good.
The romantic atmosphere of the evening was interrupted occasionally by the odd choices of the pianist. He played "Layla" (not the unplugged version) while we were browsing the menu and, over the course of the night, also played "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia." As we were wondering if he could choose a more hilarious song to play, the arrival of the check coincided with the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody."
Monday evening's uncured meatfest was followed with Tuesday's visit to Salumi for cured meat. Ever wonder how Mario Batali got so fat? Go to Salumi: it's owned by his dad. Cramped in a very tight space, it feels like a Subway where Anthony Bourdain would eat. They're only open from 11-4 from Tuesday to Friday, so gainful employment interferes with most people eating there. I had the meatball sub and it was tasty. Could have done without the vegetables though; the peppers and onions were kind of lackluster. And it actually wasn't all that expensive: $8.50 for the best ingredients is pretty darn reasonable.
Now to lose the many pounds I have gained.
El Gaucho became known to me through its full page ad in Alaska Airlines Magazine. The ad copy was written by some fellow named Quinn Travis, who calls it "the Quinn T. Essential steakhouse." I will not name any child of mine Quinn just to prevent them from having the ability to make that pun.
The ad was notable to me for the following (paraphrased) passage:
I frequent all the big-name Seattle steakhouses, and occasionally the others have an off night, where the service isn't quite right or the meat isn't quite done to perfection. But I've been to El Gaucho many, many times and they've never had an off night.
There's only one response to that: Fuck you for having the financial and gastrointestinal means to be able to boast about frequenting all the big-name Seattle steakhouses.
El Gaucho does come highly recommended by actual people not writing ad copy, so it seemed fine for the anniversary. What can be said about a good steak cooked to perfection? Not much. It's great, and that's that. It came with "Southwest Scalloped Potatoes" that were both tasty and southwestern-tasting; they actually tasted like they had jalapenos in them, unlike most things you see advertised as "southwestern." Bananas Foster, prepared tableside, is their signature dessert, and it was frickin' good.
The romantic atmosphere of the evening was interrupted occasionally by the odd choices of the pianist. He played "Layla" (not the unplugged version) while we were browsing the menu and, over the course of the night, also played "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia." As we were wondering if he could choose a more hilarious song to play, the arrival of the check coincided with the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody."
Monday evening's uncured meatfest was followed with Tuesday's visit to Salumi for cured meat. Ever wonder how Mario Batali got so fat? Go to Salumi: it's owned by his dad. Cramped in a very tight space, it feels like a Subway where Anthony Bourdain would eat. They're only open from 11-4 from Tuesday to Friday, so gainful employment interferes with most people eating there. I had the meatball sub and it was tasty. Could have done without the vegetables though; the peppers and onions were kind of lackluster. And it actually wasn't all that expensive: $8.50 for the best ingredients is pretty darn reasonable.
Now to lose the many pounds I have gained.