At the end of the meal, once all the meat is masticated and the lingering potatoes waved away, it’s time for an ice-cream sundae. It is a strict rule of the steak house that dessert should be both childlike and wondrous, a reprieve after all the posturing and peacocking that came before. A menu might offer chocolate cake, apple strudel, a slice of cheesecake, a sticky slab of bread pudding, or, as at La Tête d’Or, a selection of oven-warm cookies. But just as essential to the steak house experience as the steak itself is the sundae—complex, frilly, multicolored, slightly absurd, an indulgence earned through innocence rather than through brute force. La Tête d’Or’s features soft-serve, your choice of swirled-together chocolate and coffee or swirled-together vanilla and a seasonal fruit flavor, their alternating stripes spiralling upward like a circus tent. It’s served in a metal coupe surrounded by a roulette of toppings in little bowls: tiny marshmallows, dehydrated berries, little bits of brownie, house-made rainbow sprinkles. The ice cream is, of course, magnificent, the chocolate sauce luscious, the bits of brownie divine. But something about this version was off, unsteady, a little wrong. There was no whipped cream—is it still a sundae without it? And there was no cherry on top.
The New Yorker – Helen Rosner – La Tête d’Or and the Revenge of the American Steak House
Phil has a question:
Do you want mushrooms with your steak.
Garden And Gun – Marco Goran Romano – Vote for the South’s Best Steak House
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“We’ll have to stop research now that the Neanderthals are back in charge.”
Phil M Stockmen
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