If you want to get close to the source of your steak, take a stroll past Gallagher’s glass-enclosed street-side meat locker. Inside, the mustily masculine restaurant attracts a largely male clientele with its huge wooden bar and photos of (largely female) celebrities on the walls. The uncomplicated menu holds few surprises, though patrons are pleased to discover that the aged beef is flamed over hickory logs. The sirloin was better marbled and more flavorful than the touted porterhouse; the creamed spinach was watery and bland. But quibbles are for wimps. Stare down a few sides of beef in that locker, and keep eating.
Gallagher’s Steak House
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