Flamés Steak House ********1/2
Recently opened Flamés Steak House, in transitioning Lower Manhattan's Fi Di neighborhood, boasts a pricey menu of steak, chicken and seafood. But mainly steak. And mainly Porterhouse steak at that. Flamés Porterhouse House would be a more apt title to have emblazon their cheap, titty bar-esque red awning.
Ah, but that awning is where the cheapness ends. Once you pass under it, you find yourself in a dimly-lit bistro reminiscent of what you imagine the best New York restaurant of the 1950s must have been like. "Have I stumbled into the best New York restaurant of the 1950s?" you'll ask yourself.
You might as well have.
Raised panel walls with hand-carved (or a good job at faking it) oaken molding, Hudson River School reproductions, maroon velvet draperies accented with golden tassels, potpourric bouquets, and two fireplaces, just because. Soft, quiet jazz can be heard. An occasional Torme croon. And the crowd, a surprising mix of oldish and young when I went for dinner last Friday. In the back rooms, robust 50-year-old fat cats sucked down cigars and pinched the tight, skirted behinds of their ambitious interns. Up front, quite an attractive, young stock of kids, undoubtedly thanks to the enormous new building across the street from Flamés, which is rumored to be filled to the brim with spoiled, up-and-coming business types. A better location a place like Flamés could not have wished for. (Just you watch: In the coming year, as the Financial District finally turns its post-9/11 frown upside down, Flamés will become the place to be for anyone who is anyone sleeping with someone under the age of twenty-six.)
I opted for the Steak for One. At $37, my hopes were high. And, well, Flamés delivered. Sepia-toned on the outside, with a touch of singed, smoky flavor, parallel grill marks, and a richly rewarding flavorful middle--that melted on its way to my mouth--I wished my Steak for One was a Steak for Two, quite frankly. I accompanied it with passable Creamed Spinach and cleansed my palate with three glasses of their third most expensive wine, a Pinot Noir from a valley in Italy I hadn't heard of. And I've heard of a lot.
For dessert I had an Apple Cobbler a la mode. A perfect end to a perfect meal. No indigestion. A solid bowel movement at aproximately 8:35 the next morning.
My only regret is that I was unable to shake the hand of Mr. Frank Flamé, to congratulate him on another job well done. The proprietor of this, his second Flamés Steak House (the other is in Rosethorn Manor in affluent West Esther County), was, sadly, nowhere to be found. But I did get the chance to speak briefly with his wife, Belladonna. She is a wonderful person. The Flamés are such wonderful people.
Flamés Steak House is open Monday thru Friday, and sometimes Saturdays, from 4-11pm.
Jeremiah Ballou is a freelance food critic. This is his first review for Food Review.