Peter Luger: A Place for Gluttony
To celebrate the illustrious 26th birthday of the fabulous Coco B, i decided to book a wonderful all expenses paid dinner for two at Peter Luger steakhouse in Williamsburg, Brooklyn,. For those of you who do not know what PL’s is or why it is great here is a quick synopsis: 100 years in the same location, #1 NY steak house, aged porterhouse, rude staff, brightly lit, no table clothe, no frills, CASH ONLY. The whole cash only thing really solidifies the mystique of Luger’s “old school” Brooklyn business methods and brings to mind a “goodfella’s” style of book keeping
Peter Luger is located a few blocks from the Williamsburg bridge which if you haven’t been recently is a pretty hip neighborhood. You can park wherever the hell you can find it or in their valet lot located a block away. First off you better not even bother walking through the door unless you have made reservations. I called 1.5 months in advance for a Saturday night booking and got a seating @ 10:45 PM!!!!! I’m usually asleep by that time so i opted instead for the Friday @ 9:45 seating which is still unreasonable. We got there around 9PM in hopes of being seated earlier but instead we stood in the center of what seemed like a blender of sizzling hot meat plates flying by our heads, drunken goombas with their chest hair sticking out yelling loudly , $13 dollar glasses of $5 wine being spilled, waddling patrons sweating with meat, and this intoxicating aroma of such a unique caliber that words would do it no good.
The way the maitre d’ Vinny contacted you was by first crossing your name off of a 6′ x 2′ piece of oaktag which was so confusing looking you would need an advanced degree in cryptology to decipher the list! It is amazing how a place that charges 800 dollars for 4 people to eat a piece of beef still uses the worlds most basic system of client handling. Do not expect them to use those new fangled beeper systems either, the coked up Maitre d’ just walks into the middle of the drunken masses awaiting meats and yells your name 3 times before you get shafted.
Finally we were called and shown to our table which was a basic scratched up wooden table in a very brightly lit, monastic dining room. Our scary German waiter offered us a menu, but me having been obsessively thinking about these meal for weeks I refused and ordered from memory: 1 shrimp cocktail, 2 strips bacon, 1 medium rare porter, 1 creamed spinach, 1 potato. In retrospect, this is where I fucked up, but this was before I had ever seen the size of their bacon, shrimp, and steaks. As if this wasnt enough food, they put out these delicious onion rolls with a big gravy boat filled with Peter Luger sauce! Sweet mother of god they are going to kill me…
So after devouring 2 rolls the shrimp appeared. Well I guess they are shrimp, but they easily could have been lobster tails given their TREMENDOUS GIRTH. 4 of these monsters served with a cocktail sauce were split between me and the petite Coco B. Then came the onslaught known as the ‘Bacon Storm’. This bacon was about 1/4″ thick and about 80% delicious pork fat. I ate 1.5 of these bad boys before I began to notice something alarming; sweat was now starting to break out on my neck and forehead! Had I over-meated PRE meatz? Had i made the cardinal sin of filling up on appetizer and fucking bread before even getting to savor the delectable meatz that I originally came here for!?!?!!? WOULD I EVER GET TO SAVOR THE FLAVOURS I SO CRAVED????????????? I began to get nervous and in thought about ways I could combat my fullness to make room. First I ran to the bathroom and strained for 20 minutes to no avail. Then in an act of desperation I actually took the plunger out of the closet and began plungering my buttocks directly to actually jump start the system. It was at that point I realized the door was unlocked and at that very moment an old woman opened the door, screamed, and fell over her walker on the floor dead.
After her body was removed from the floor our waiter soon approached. I saw him walking towards us in slow motion, sasheing the meat from side to side with its sizzly appeal! The air surrounding the plate was greasy with excitement as he placed it down in front of us. Pre-sliced hunks of this dinosaur sized steaks were hoisted unto our plates then given a hearty spoonful of “cholesterol” as our waiter chuckled. I wittly quipped to the waiter “I ordered the porterhouse good sir, not the BRONTOSAURUS steak! Har har!!!” to which his response was “Shut up and eat” followed by something in German. The creamed spinach(ie baby food) and potato was also placed n the plates and we were left to ourselves.
Having completely forgotten about Coco B and why we were even here it was just me and my meatz. It was strange really, like a tidal wave of flavor about crash down upon me and here I am unable to move out of its way. Forced to take the plunge, I took my knife, sliced a slab of glistening muscle, and chomped down. It could have been just a coincidence, but at that very moment my head literally exploded in a mist of grease and beef. After Coco put my skull back together i was then able to give some words to my experience. First thing about this meat is its very deep, ruddy, earthy, and intense. Its a flavour of beef you may never have tasted before. Crisp and lightly charred on the exterior and red and juicy inside it is a meaty treat unlike any you have had before (unless of course you have been to a spin off restaurant). The side dishes were great as served well as an accompaniment to the meal.
After about 3 small slices of the meat and a scoop of potato and spinach I was absolutely brimming to the max with both seameatz and landmeatz. The sweat had transitioned from a brief speckling to a full out deluge. Coco B meanwhile was still munching down the steak and sides, even sopping some of my sweat with a roll and eating it as at that point I was literally sweating out steak sauce! When the dust finally cleared we were left with about 2/3rds of the steak and sides as well as onlookers from every direction with a look mixed between disgust and confusion. The waiter came over perplexed as well and asked if everything was alright with the food as we had not eaten it all. I pitifully attempted to explain the circumstances, with the bread and bacon, and even the plungering. He immediately slapped me across the face and told me to get up. He then led me shackled to a dark room deep below the belly of PL’s with a wooden plaque on the wall that said “Steak will set you free”…
After 7 grueling hours of being interrogated, forced to clean out the PL mens bathroom, and made to pay the “meat tax” I was released upstairs to a crying Coco B. I tried to console her and tell her how I was ok and that I wasnt hurt. She then slapped me across the face and said “You idiot, I am crying because when the waiter packed our food to go the other patrons threw rolls at me and called me vegetarian! They had to use a SUITCASE to pack the leftovers!!!” Rolling the leftovers out the door with my head down low, we then left PL’s after a grueling ordeal. My wallet was fully cleaned out 3 times over, my stomach swollen, and my dreams of Peter Luger fufilled.
A great meal indeed!
(most of this story was factual. There is actually a Peter Luger restaurant in Brooklyn. Also they serve steaks. Big steaks. The rest of the story….ehhhhhh.)