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]
148 W 51st St.