The
1990s have been good to us in many ways. There’s the cigar comeback. There’s the resurgence of
martinis. And then there’s this new upscale steakhouse trend. Lead by Morton’s
of Chicago, these luxury chop houses are now springing up all over the country.
Their menus feature the old steakhouse standards — thick-cut expensive steaks,
creamed spinach, potatoes, salads, lobster, and that’s about it. The typical
ambiance is men’s club elegant, which is to say, lots of white linen and dark
sturdy furniture and a nice bar with good martinis and cigars, but no frills or
ferns.
Sullivan’s is just such a steakhouse, though in the ambiance department they
have outdone the others. The stunning bar is decorated with graphics from the
era of boxer John L. Sullivan, its Jazz Age mood completed by a swingin’ trio
on weekends. The stately, high-ceilinged dining room is beautifully lit and
decorated with flower arrangements and more old black-and-white photos of the
legendary fighter. And soon the swank will get swankier, as Sullivan’s has
recently purchased the adjoining building where they will add a cigar lounge
complete with fireplace and several private dining rooms.
Another one of Sullivan’s outstanding accomplishments is their wine storage
display. In a city where red wine is often stored badly and routinely served
too warm, Sullivan’s has put its enormous temperature-controlled wine racks
behind a huge glass wall for all the dining room to see. And the wine list,
while short, is exceptionally well suited to the steakhouse fare.
On a recent visit, after having a few excellent martinis in the bar, we took a
seat and began our meal with a salad I hadn’t seen in years — a huge, ice-cold
wedge of crisp iceberg slathered with blue cheese. Now I know that this kind of
salad, which June Cleaver no doubt served to Ward and the boys, is considered
by many to be a culinary monstrosity. But if for no other reason than
nostalgia, I found it delightful.
I ordered a Kansas City bone-in strip steak ($24.95), and my dining companion
ordered a small filet mignon, 8 ounces for $16.95. We also went for the
horseradish mashed potatoes ($3), and the creamed spinach ($3.50), both in
family-sized portions that you can pass around the table. To drink, we sent for
a bottle of 1993 Domaine Drouhin, Oregon ($48). (We are fortunate that one of
Burgundy’s greatest wine houses has set up shop in Oregon so we now have an
American Pinot noir that’s on a par with some of Burgundy’s best.)
Yes, the Nineties have been good to us in many ways. But eating in this grand
steakhouse, it is impossible to ignore one of the worst things about our
decade. In these waning days of the century, American beef has gone to hell. My
Kansas City strip was thick cut, it was perfectly cooked and it looked great.
Unfortunately, it tasted bloody and bland. My tablemate liked her filet. But
then again, she was a vegetarian until a few years ago, so she doesn’t remember
what beef used to taste like. The filet was mushy. The mashed potatoes were
oversalted and the creamed spinach was runny, but who really cares about these
plate decorations? In a steakhouse, the steak’s the thing — and these steaks
were B+ at best. When the waitress stopped by, I asked her about the meat.
“Is it USDA Prime?”
“No, it’s certified Angus beef,” she said and then she launched into a long
rote recital of the management’s position on the comparative quality of
certified Angus beef. The speech sounded rehearsed and defensive. It wasn’t her
fault. It isn’t really Sullivan’s fault either.
The truth is that the quality of American beef itself is in decline and
there’s not much Sullivan’s or any other steakhouse can do about it. (See
accompanying article, “A Certified Shame”.) But I wondered if the owners of
Sullivan’s really believed the certified Angus pep talk that their waitpeople
deliver, so I called Sullivan’s manager, Rick Cheesman, on the phone some days
later. Cheesman is no novice when it comes to steak. Sullivan’s hired him away
from Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa, Florida, one of the top steakhouses in
America.
At Bern’s they served dry-aged, USDA Prime beef. Cheesman complained that one
reason Sullivan’s served certified Angus is that prime beef isn’t what it used
to be. He told me that prime tenderloin was practically impossible to find
anymore and that the certified Angus filets at Sullivan’s were every bit as
good as those at other top steakhouses. I asked Cheesman how the beef at
Sullivan’s was aged and he told me it was aged in the vacuum-sealed plastic
bags it was shipped in. I asked him if he thought dry-aging, the old-fashioned
practice of hanging meat in a temperature-controlled locker, was better than
aging meat in a plastic bag. “Dry-aging concentrates the flavor and loosens the
muscle,” he admitted. “It’s a lot more tender.” So how was it that they decided
on bag-aged, certified Angus for Sullivan’s? With all that elegance in the bar,
the wine cellar and the dining room, how do you decide to scrimp on the
steaks?
Then Cheesman let me in on the strategy of his employers. And I must admit the
whole thing finally started to make sense. It turns out that Sullivan’s is a
prototype for a new chain of restaurants owned by the Lone Star Steakhouse and
Saloon group of Wichita, Kansas. A second Sullivan’s is already under way in
Indianapolis. The Lone Star group, which owns
170-some medium-priced
steakhouses around the country, has also purchased the Del Frisco Steakhouse in
Dallas. Del Frisco’s will serve as a prototype for another, even more upscale
chain.
The Sullivan’s steakhouses will serve certified Angus beef in price-conscious
markets like Austin. The Del Frisco’s units will serve dry-aged, USDA Prime
beef in cities that have traditionally supported higher-priced restaurants. The
second Del Frisco’s is already open in Fort Worth; the third will be in Denver.
“The average check per person at Ruth’s Chris is around $50,” Cheesman told me.
The Morton’s of Chicago chain, which is very successful right now, is averaging
nearly $60 per person. “We didn’t think Austin was prepared to pay those
prices,” Cheesman said. So far, Sullivan’s average check is under $40 per
person. Sullivan’s mission is to provide upscale ambiance at a lower price.
That information made me feel a little foolish since our bill, including the
tip, came to $126. I guess the wine was our mistake. While it’s always a
pleasure to drink good wine, I’d have to admit that the subtleties of the
Domaine Drouhin were wasted on these steaks. Next time, I’ll have a nice bottle
of beer. But if the Sullivan’s folks are still toying with their prototype,
then I have a suggestion to make.
As Austinites, we understand that we are not the Del Frisco’s crowd. That
restaurant, with one of the highest check averages in the country, is for that
uniquely Dallas sort of rich person that likes his expensive car to be parked
in a conspicuous spot in the parking lot. We Austinites are humble artists,
musicians, and propeller heads and our rich people are all lovable eccentrics
who can easily pass for poor. But while we hope never to be mistaken for gaudy,
South Fork-wannabes who throw their money around, neither do we like being
thought of as second-class citizens who are too poor to afford the extra $3 for
a great steak.
There is an easy solution to this perceived slight. Just put one dry-aged,
USDA Prime steak on Sullivan’s menu. Maybe a big porterhouse. Go ahead and
charge $30 for it. Even if nobody ever ordered one, I think it would do the
restaurant a world of good. First of all, it would enable the people who work
there to hold up their heads and be proud of the fact that they serve the best
instead of doing a soft shoe around the truth. Secondly, it would allow
Austinites (and Indianapoloids) to feel that they at least had the opportunity
to order the very best. And last, but not least, it would give those of us who
did pay the extra couple of bucks for the steak a good excuse to blow $48 on a
great bottle of wine.
This article appears in October 18 • 1996 and October 18 • 1996 (Cover).