It is with cruel irony and a heavy heart that I bring you today’s review. Last week I set out to Mitchell’s Steak House – to tell the story of the infamous restaurant that helped make a fraud of former USG President Robert “BJ” Schuerger.
Instead, Mitchell’s unbelievable entrées, stupendous styling and hospitable hosts exposed the frauds in us both. Dear reader, I have something I need to tell you…
For the past year, I may have misled you to believe I possessed some form of culinary expertise as I traipsed from one campus fast-food restaurant to the next; leaving behind me a wake of poorly-written columns based on little to no formal gustatory training.
I pretended to speak “food-critic” but I simply cannot begin to give you a professional account of food of this caliber – Mitchell’s Steak House is clearly out of my league.
Don’t you understand!? I’m a hack. Real food critics don’t burn their Pop-Tarts, eat potato chips off the floor and absentmindedly eat raw tuna fish off the bottom of their sock.
Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to bring you my account of this fateful evening. Should you read the mindless tripe that follows and demand your humble Masticator’s resignation – I shan’t blame you.
You do remember BJ Schuerger, don’t you? Our notorious ex-USG President who, along with thirteen other members of our Executive Branch, dropped twenty-five hundred dollars of student money on steaks, wines, limousines, with money to spare.
Now the masticating team and I, along with the Lantern’s own Woodward and Bernstien – Campus Editor Rebecca Jamrozik and Arts Editor Jason Mann – have returned to taste the wine, feel the luxury, and eat “The Steak Worth Ending Your Political Career For.”
As we neared the restaurant, located at 45 N. 3rd Street, I watched in horror as two young men in red polo shirts approached my car, presumably to flip it over and set fire to it with a burning couch. When instead they identified themselves as valets and asked for my keys, I knew I was in a different world.
After passing through the revolving door, my eyes drifted heavenward, drinking in the beauty of high vaulted ceilings, rich velvet draperies, and New York art deco décor. The atmosphere has just a hint of Tammany Hall – how apropos. I could hear my nervous stomach whispering in hushed tones, “Hank, I don’t think we’re in La Bamba’s anymore.”
When our waiter handed us the evening’s menu, I was surprised by its massive girth. With a short glance, however, the menu’s true nature was exposed. Don’t be fooled, reader! This menu’s all wine list. As I perused the many, many expensive vintages offered, I came to the realization that I was probably one of the only guests at Michell’s wondering if his credit card would clear that evening. It did. Barely.
It was as the maitre d’ explained the features of the evening, listing off dozens of gourmet sauces in exotic cooking styles, that the sobering reality of my professional shortcomings became very apparent. As my mind blanked out, my gut instincts took over – proudly ordering itself a Caesar salad, baked potato and the biggest steak on the menu. Oh! the shame … the heart-wrenching shame!
Fortunately for you and I, the rest of my dining party was a bit more experimental.
Co-Masticators Lisa and April tried the house salad. “This lettuce was limper than Bob Dole,” writes April. Lisa comments, “The salad was good, but the lettuce was soggy and the bacon bits weren’t up to par. Overall, it was fairly decent.”
My Caesar salad was also good, but rather staid for the money I paid. Average size, standard ingredients – handily earning my stamp of mediocrity.
Quinn tried the French Onion Soup and writes, “(The soup) is very impressive – a little sweet, but hearty. Spices helped give the soup a little kick. The copious amounts of cheese made the dish problematic to eat, but resourceful diners should have no trouble.”
Jason sunk his teeth into the rack of lamb commenting, “I tried this both with and without the mint sauce, and found my preference goes both ways. While the inner meat was nice and tender – the outer layer of meat was a bit burnt. I expect a lot from a thirty-dollar entrée and, quite frankly, this didn’t fulfill my expectations. The rice and mashed potatoes, however, were quite excellent.”
Lisa dined on the Atlantic Salmon and disappointedly writes, “The salmon was burnt and hard on the edges – a little fishy if you ask me.”
Quinn had pork chops in a raspberry demi-glaze (or so he was told) and comments “The pork was tender and the sauce was delicious. The tastiest forkful of pig I’ve ever experienced.”
April tried the Beefsteak Baked Tomatoes and crab cakes and comments, “The tomatoes were the biggest and best I’ve ever had. Seriously sweet, tender and delicious. The crab cakes were light and not overdone. The fishy taste was well-masked, but the vegetable decorations consisted mainly of a Southwestern corn mixture. It tasted out of place, like something I’d get at Chipotle.”
Rebecca spoke highly of her bacon-wrapped tenderloins writing, “(The meat) melted in my mouth, not in my hand. It did a fine job of sobering me up after a long day of drinking. My only complaint is the mashed potatoes were cold. Some, like me, like it hot.”
I can only describe my porterhouse that evening as a religious experience. The heavenly sweet and zesty marinade artfully complemented the natural flavor of the steak without being overpowering. The steak was so perfect, I couldn’t bare to ruin it with the steak sauce.
Dinner at Mitchell’s is a truly a transcendent dining experience, but be warned! The hefty price tag made me so angry I felt like shredding 10,000 Lanterns as I left the table.
Upon reflection, I’ve decided to forgive Mr. Schuerger for his youthful indiscretions. It would take a stronger man than I to say no to such tempting fare and I can only imagine how great it would taste on someone else’s money.
Put simply, I’d screw over the student body for this steak – twice – without batting an eyelash. You would too. So watch out, dear reader, lest Mitchell’s Steakhouse make frauds of us all.
Hank Mylander is a fraud from Westerville majoring in Information Systems. Do you know a restaurant that deserves a good, objective review? Will you settle for a crass, uncultured one? If so, e-mail the Masticator at [email protected].
