Del Frisco’s – Major Plot Holes
Forget the fact that this restaurant clearly bit off more than they could chew when it was known they were going to occupy the once iconic Oak Street movie theater in the Gold Coast area of Chicago, the reality is that this story of a steakhouse that comes from a long line of highly functioning other restaurants leaves one a bit bemused by the fact that this place was and still is, rather poorly run.
The hope was resting on the fact that after a few years of growing from our first try here, we would have seen an uptick somewhere. It is quite possible that for the most part, this spot has fallen a few more spots down. Speaking of down, the crew was down to nearly a bare minimum with a die hard group of 4 gents – Cizzle, German, TDI, and myself only making it out for what was possibly to be this restaurant’s last showing with this group.
Arriving at the bar per usual timing, we found it empty and rather emotionless. In fact, a comment was made that the 4 of us nearly doubled the restaurant’s current patronage and that probably was not too big of a stretch. Amazingly the bar service was still remarkably slow and unsteady…I guess unless you are into ordering simple things like a glass of water 3 times before it finally shows up.
8 o’clock arrived and we were seated in a godfather style booth at the back corner of the restaurant where we were quickly introduced to harder and staler than ever bread loaf as well as our esteemed waitstaff (Tristan?). The name could be totally escaping me but the guy was a little less than memorable and not terribly polite. I proceeded to get through the host’s responsibilities and ordered (and gladly paid for) a nice ’14 Caymus to attempt to get the show back on the road here. I do have to say that is one of the best Caymus vintages in years. That at least was a hit.
The apps order consisted of some thick cut bacon, escargo, and shag-style calamari…all of which were tasty and apportioned well for the group. Moooving on to steaks, our boytoy Tristan highlighted the special bone-in filet (which I went for) and Rick helped direct the sides as I lost myself in the waiter’s eyes. I vaguely remember some potatoes au gratin being the #1 choice of the dinner pals.
After some good summer recap banter, a few haunted house stories per Zee German and what probably will fit as more or less the group’s eulogy for DF’s, the steaks came and 75% of them were on point. In fact, my steak was one of the better ones I’ve enjoyed this year (no attendance jokes please) and it was perfectly tender and flavorful. It was the defining spectacle de choix as to why bone-in filets can take home the envelope when done with the right amount of seasoning and cook.
With the restaurant emptying out and German’s birthday celebrated with some weak ass cake that we barely ate, it was off into the night where the boys felt like that even with a re-write of the Del Frisco’s script it could take years to get this place in our viewing pleasure again.
6.5/10 (food good/great…rest of the place, wait for it on Netflix)
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As Rick and I were walking down Oak Street towards this months selection of Del Frisco’s, I had commented on how quiet the street seemed this particular evening. It could have been for a variety of reasons……maybe the first night of Lollapalooza, summer vacation time, potential rain in the forecast, who knows. Looking back, it certainly foreshadowed what we were in store for at DF’s.
After riding the escalator up to the still magnificent room, which is about the only thing going for the place, we tried to make our way up to the 2nd floor bar, only to be told by the hostess that it was closed. As we walked over to the main bar, we soon found out why. Rick and I might have doubled the current occupancy of the place, outside of the bartenders and waitstaff. Sir Martin commented on the bar being “emotionless,” and I couldn’t have described it better. I will say they don’t skimp on the drink pours……after they can actually locate the requested bottle that is.
The four horsemen were seated promptly at 8PM. Definitely no need to wait on a table becoming available. The only reason one would actually make a reservation here is to rack up Open Table points for themselves, their assistant, mailman, or whoever needs the points that week.
Our waiter, Christian, seemed like he would rather die than be working there. I can’t blame him. He was a little snotty, but I actually thought his attitude meshed well with the sarcastic group on hand.
I chipped a tooth on the bread.
Apps consisted of bacon (always a winner), Shanghai style calamari (winner of the sides for me) and something else Hans ate all of so it’s hard for me to comment. Scotty was nice enough to supply a beautiful bottle of ’14 Caymus for the evening which was far and away the best thing about the meal outside of the company.
I ordered the standard bone-in ribeye. I thought my cut was better than expected, although the bar was basically on the floor. It was however a tad over seasoned. I know they’re using Montreal seasoning and you can’t tell me otherwise. And while I actually enjoy a slight dash of Montreal on a steak cooked in the Crenshaw home, it’s sort of bush-league for a restaurant of this supposed caliber.
I don’t remember much about the sides other than the overly cheesy potato au gratin. Seemed like a TGI Fridays dish. But hey, hard to meet a cheesy potato that isn’t alright alright alright.
Tuned out to be bubbie’s birthday, and we had some lame ass butter cake. It wasn’t even in the same universe as the Mastro’s rendition.
All in all a fine evening with the fellas. And Martin didn’t get drunk and start pinching anyone.
Can’t wait to see what the person taking the place of Don Cole has in store for us in September.
We went to Del Frisco’s years ago when it first opened and had a dreadful experience. In fact it was so bad they gave all 8 people in attendance a $50 gift card, now to be fair they had just opened and were still working out the kinks. The initial trip was years ago and I was anxious to see if they have improved over the years.
Crenshaw and I arrived at the bar and you would think we rented the place for a private party since we were practically the only one’s there. I thought the bartenders were good. They poured strong drinks, engaged in some playful banter and were attentive. Granted it’s not hard to be attentive when there is no one else there but I have seen it happen.
The room is spectacular, it’s huge and kind of a unique space. However the huge room only helps magnify the fact that there were very few guests. We were seated in the Godfather booth which I believe gave us the authority to order hits and broken legs but none were ordered while eating.
The waiter was a snotty little shit that looked like he would rather be anywhere else. I’m going to disagree with Crenshaw, I don’t think his attitude meshed with the group at all. You could almost feel him rolling his eyes with every comment we made. One of the worst servers we have ever had, maybe we should have ordered his legs broken.
The bacon came out like a mini steak, had to be cut with a knife and fork which was something new. It had a nice seasoning and taste to it. The Asian infused calamari was also great, sadly these two apps were the highlight of the meal. I went with a porterhouse medium rare, one of the worst steaks I have ever had. It was over seasoned with some generic seasoning, over cooked and had a weird after taste. Crenshaw tried a piece of my steak and confirmed it was in fact historically awful. The au gratin potatoes felt like they were diced potatoes covered in Velveeta, they tasted ok but it was a total amateur take on au gratin potatoes i.e. no brown crust, breadcrumbs, real cheese, etc.
After dinner drinks were at Butch McGuire’s which was good because it wasn’t Sienna Tavern again. This was a make or break evening for Del Frisco’s and it failed miserably. This place is awful, I don’t understand how it stays open and there are zero reasons to return. It’s such a waste of a spectacular space. None the less the company was great and despite the restaurant it was another memorable chapter in the steak night story.
My German promptness usually finds me the first one of our illustrious group – that is unless Daddy Gimms had an afternoon beer bash with coworkers that month – at the bar, however in this case I would have been the only person at the bar so luckily I was running late and found the 3 gents occupying the corner by the time I got there. I asked for an ice water no less than three times, perhaps four. It took asking a different bar keep to actually procure the water. They didnt seem to acknowledge the fact that this was pointed out but did pour four fingers of bourbon with joyless ceremony. I regaled the group with the current haunting of my home, a story of which compares to the Cat-astrophe of Ruth’s Chris lore.
Our booth was situated in the far corner such that it would be impossible to be stabbed in the back, which is what I look for in my dining accommodations. Although a long walk through a largely empty room assuaged my fears. Our shit bag waiter armed us with rock hard stale bread and then acknowledged it when it was pointed out, “well we arent known for our bread.” I suspect he will not be employed for long, anywhere. Apps were good, usual suspects among Chicago’s steakhouses nothing outstanding. I went with the bone in strip. Heavy handed Montreal seasoning overwhelmed what would have been a decent steak. Cooked well. I dont think enough has been said about how slow the service was throughout the dinner not just how poor it was. Honestly there must have been one chef back there cooking everything for the pace it was served. The butter cake will not find itself in the broom closet with yours truly anytime soon. Sure the space is beautiful and it will be a nice place once DF goes under and some new restaurateur tries their hand at losing all they own, but I see no reason to return. Top marks to Scooter as our host that selected from the Holinger reserve wine list but had the grace to pay for it. I think Butch McGuires is a perfect place to pick up other dudes on a weeknight, so I had one beer and called it a night, not sure how the other fellas fared. 5/10