I finally made it to Peter Luger’s, the world’s most famous steakhouse. I must say: it lives up to the hype. Every bite was delicious, almost impossibly good. Schmit & I were having a good time until the beef came — then all conversation ceased, save for the occasional, Homeresque “ohhhhhhhhh.” The environment is pretty hardcore, too. It’s a lovely block in Williamsburg and walking in past the no frills stand-up bar I felt as if I had a giant Star of David tattooed on my forehead. The demographics split three ways: high rollers either from or visiting Manhattan who came in by cab (and lighting cigars out front), local Brooklyn boyz in T-shirts, gold chains and Gotti-hair hanging out by the bar and Japanese tourists. A real anthropological study.
