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To be honest, we're
still a little confused about the name of this joint. I mean, if Mr.
Hipster's mom started a steakhouse would she call it Adrienne's Mike?
Well, we may not get the nomenclature, but there's nothing we don't
know about a juicy steak--especially one cooked in tons of butter.
You heard us right; this Ruth chick cooks her hunks of cow flesh in
pounds of butter. In fact, there's so much of the yellow stuff that
the waiters make you hold up your napkin to cover your shirt when
delivering your filet so as to avoid getting nasty hot oil stains
on your finery. While not one of the best-known steakhouses in the
city (it's actually a chain with restaurants around the country),
we can't say that we've eaten at much better. Order a medium-rare
strip, and you'll get a medium-rare strip. So many of the other joints
we've been to overcook their meat--a serious offense in our book.
The restaurant itself is nothing very exciting. It blends well with
the Midtown, practical, clean look. One can imagine a bunch of white-haired
businessmen with large square glasses and red ties spewing tiny pieces
of gristle back and forth across the table at each other while discussing
the latest episode of The O'Reilly Factor. We must admit
that it ain't cheap, but for our money this is the place to power
lunch. Now if I could just find that tie... [MF]
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