Where's the Sizzle?

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.