I swear I actually had a dream about Houston’s artichoke dip. It’s an odd thing for a grown adult to dream about, but the stuff is so sickeningly good (and fattening) that I was severely upset when I woke to realize that in fact I was chewing on my duvet rather than the luscious creaminess of cheese and artichoke and fat and, well, fat on a chip. Their burgers are also very good and actually cooked medium rare when you ask for it that way. The restaurant is in a non-descript area in a non-descript office building, but has somehow been found by every young professional between the age of thirty and forty in the area. It’s really quite a scene under those pinpoint halogens. The bar is swarming with fresh meat (and some not so fresh) of the human kind waiting for their tables and waiting for Mr. Right. The joint is large and set on a couple different levels to give it some intrigue, and is lit sort of like an old school nightclub, with pools of light here and there. We saw a very scary Christina Aguilera there, which must make this place kinda cool, right? Okay, maybe not, but it certainly puts everything in the right place, feeds you well and cares about the atmosphere. Wow, you’d think I was actually praising a chain restaurant. Maybe it’s a sign of Mr. Hipster softening with age, but more likely the sign of a happy stomach. [MF]
153 E 53rd St.