Traveling is one of my favorite things to do. New York was my destination this last go-around, and it was a great time. What better way to kick off a birthday trip with a steak dinner and friends? There is none.

Peter Luger’s has been serving delicious meat of the bovine influence to folks in the Brooklyn area for over a century. And with that kind of history, they must be doing something right. Upon entering, you’re greeted by a beautifully stocked bar (that smells of rich mahogany) and directly across that stands a wall lined with Zagat awards from years past. I made sure to book a reservation a couple weeks in advance (coincidentally, the same night we made impromptu plans to take a NYC trip / book tickets), so we were seated almost immediately.

Anticipating the carnage that was about to take place, I couldn’t help but ogle everyone’s food around me, and I did. Hard. I put down an assortment of rolls to temporarily quell the monster. Suddenly, a boisterous old man of a waiter greeted us with one of those ‘no bullshit’ attitudes. It was down to business with this guy. By this time, we had a pretty good idea of what we wanted. A slice of grilled bacon for all of us to start, creamed spinach, plate of french fries, and steak for three with the bottle of wine to wash it all down.

Heaven.

I’ve never had grilled bacon, but I’m pretty sure this spoiled it for any I might have in the future. A nice thick slice, cooked enough to have the best of both worlds, crispy and chewy. More bread to follow. I was hesitant when we figured out that the steaks were broiled, I immediately regret that blasphemous thought. Our waiter threw the plates onto our table, cut up the steak, served up a couple gorgeous medallions each and then used the oil from the steak as a sauce. A dollop of creamed spinach, a handful of fries, and it was off to the races. Silence. The critical mass of a meal is the point at which people stop talking because the food is too good to waste on speech.

Satisfaction.

My buddies spilled the beans to our waiter that it was my birthday (other birthday folks around us were getting rad sundaes). So I was ready for mine… they come out blasting ‘happy birthday,’ candle, the whole nine. It was a bowl of whipped cream. Har har. Assholes. We ended up using it for our coffee. I ended up getting some chocolate gold coins out of deal, however.

If you feel like splurging and putting enough effort into making a reservation ahead of time, Peter Luger’s is the place to do it. Tradition is tough to beat.

Until next time, EAT IT.

As promised…  and I always deliver. So this encompasses my Thanksgiving to New Years. Camping, family dinners, cooking mayhem. It’s all there. Enjoy!

I was fortunate enough to study in Florence, Italy for the summer back in 2006, and while I was there, trying the local cuisine was not a question. It was and will always be a MUST when traveling. There are several food stories I could tell you from this particular trip, but there’s only one that is Eat Feats worthy.

Ristorante Casa di Dante (da Pennello) is located on Via Dante Alighieri 4r… right next door to Dante’s house, if you didn’t catch that. Some classmates and I had caught wind that this place has been around since the 1400s and seen the likes of Pontormo, Cellini, and Sarto. It’s rumored to have even fed Michelangelo. The interior, decked out in medieval decor, was bustling with locals, as we caught the late dinner, and the dining room was booming with conversation.

Our waiter sat us outside in the quiet outdoor patio, my guess was as not to embarrass ourselves or do anything stupid. And as I sifted through the menu, everything was contributing to the mouth-watering, but it was only until I saw “Bistecca alla Fiorentina” that my heart was won over. This massive porterhouse was served the way THEY cook it and not how you prefer it. Our server made this very clear before anyone tried to tell him how they wanted it. Traditionally, it’s served very rare (which was totally kosher with me) and split between two people. Now that’s gonna be a problem… going against the grain, I selfishly ordered one for myself along with a plate piled high with patate fritte. What? I’m a growing boy…