Gentlemen, this is Peter Luger

A good friend of mine was preparing to move away in January, and we realized that we had precious little time left to make our pilgrimage to Williamsburg to feast upon the legendary cuts of beef at Peter Luger Steakhouse. As it turns out, we beat the odds by getting a reservation on a Friday night with less than a week's notice. Granted, it was a 9:30PM reservation, and our table wasn't ready on time. According to the legend, none of this matters. And the surly staff? The inconvenience of having to bring enough cash to buy a decent car? All this would be forgiven.

Indeed, all my unease melted away upon experiencing their take on "bacon" with as many of my senses as possible. I think a reasonably sized pig contains a great many potential slices of bacon. This slab contained several pigs. It weighed more than the thick ceramic plate upon which it rested. It sizzled when it was placed in front of me. It smelled so good that a gentleman sitting ten feet from us looked at it with such longing that his date became jealous. This was mythical. A number of other local establishments also serve novelty sized slabs of bacon, and I've tried the version at Keens. Don't get me wrong, I'm really partial to Keens. This was just better.

The waitstaff here has a reputation for being... well, offensive. The trick to dealing with them is apparently to stroke their egos and ask what to do. A simple, "what's the real Peter Luger experience?" did the trick. The choices were made for us. It turns out that the real experience is "steak for [insert party number]; medium rare," German fried potatoes and creamed spinach. Two among us had no appreciation of steak and opted for medium. Our waiter --let's call him Klaus-- shot a look, as did I. Disaster was averted by splitting the order: steak for two and burnt dead cow for two.

Klaus and his assistant returned shortly to plate our meals. I generally like my potatoes in french fried or baked form. If I have to eat greens, I usually settle on asparagus: of all the vegetables, it mostly resembles french fries. As it turns out, there's a reason THIS is what they suggest. I don't think this place does many things well, but they make THIS meal extremely well. This was one of the best steak meals I've ever had. They don't treat you like a valued customer here because they know that enough people like what they do well enough to replace you if you storm off complaining about your dignity. Welcome to Brooklyn.

The meal ended with some sort of chocolate mousse cake and several cups of coffee. Something about a cup of coffee after a nice dinner really makes you feel like an adult. As a 26-year-old student, I need reminders like this. Around midnight, Klaus suddenly told us he was leaving. We assumed that was his way of kicking us out without telling us directly, so we assembled our wad of cash. Against all odds, the four of us found the strength to walk back to Manhattan across the Williamsburg Bridge. This is about the only way one can get a sense of accomplishment about partaking in such a decadent experience.