For years, I've told my pal Earl Kress that the best steak house in America is Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. Don't think it isn't, just because it didn't make the list of The Original Great Steak Houses of North America or The Top 10 U.S.D.A. Prime Steakhouses or any of those other bogus surveys that they put together for the in-flight magazines. Every time I fly, I stow my laptop, buckle my seat belt and then immediately check the magazine to see if by some fluke of honesty, they've put Peter Luger's in its rightful position atop the lists. That it is nowhere in evidence proves that the lists are just advertising scams and that the listed eateries paid their way onto those rosters. The way I see it, Peter Luger's is so good, they don't have to pay to have someone say so.
Earl has heard me say this so often that on his current trip to New York (this week), he decided he had to try it for himself. For a moment there, I thought my bluff had been called and that I'd so oversold the place that it could only disappoint. I imagined Earl calling me in a fury, yelling that he'd shlepped all the way out to Brooklyn on my say-so and discovered that it was not a life-affirming, deeply-moving and multi-orgasmic experience; that it was just steak.
Last night, when he got back to the hotel, Earl phoned and said, "I've just had the best meal of my life." I feel as proud as if I'd picked out the Porterhouse and cooked the meat myself.