In the shadows of the great blizzard of 2011, SteaksandCigars.com’s fine men descended on a dining experience that was ablaze with anticipation.  Without giving away the ending right away, let’s say there was something for everyone in this latest pilgrimage.

Firstly, this was hoped to be a record night with regards to numbers, and was so alongside a further addition to the steak night annals with the “official” welcoming of young Brian P. Cartwright to the group.  Cartwright’s attendance landed us at the fine number of “9” for diners on the night considering that Brad Ray’s flight was canceled, and thus his attitude lifted, so we were happy to have the band fully together.

Upon arriving just after 715pm at Mastro’s, we found the welcoming crew of 3 blondes (who could not have been any better had they been triplets) to be very disarming as they directed us to coat check and the voluminous bar area were our newest addition was, for the first time in his life, on time.   A guy that could not have been any further away from Fats Domino was tickling the ivories and getting some help from a Norah Jones/Alanis Morrisette/Tori Amos backup singer to provide what the bourgeoisie  call “ambiance” for the cocktail hour.

With the complete arrival of our party, including Jev and Don (who were a few minutes late but should be forgiven since they have only had 3 year’s notice that dinner starts at 8), we were led to our table.  Fittingly, we were dining upstairs, much like one Bears QB did just hours after suffering a grade 2 tear of his MCL and blowing the chances for his team to make it to the big dance.  After negotiating what was a tricky, but rewarding, staircase up to the 2^nd level, I can see why Mr. Cutler chose to face that carpeted beast rather than the Packers defense in the second half of the NFC championship game.

Our round table was nicely laid out and situated by the window, where Brad Ray and I could look out and wonder only what could have been if we had stayed single and not become (or in Brad’s case becoming) dads.  Yes, that was the big announcement of the night, well, that and the fact that Brad chose to distance himself from my offer to help him with all the mind bending things that are going to happen to him and his lovely in the next 6 months and beyond with children.

The wait staff was quite attentive and very genuine in recommending the most expensive things on the menu as “favorites” but also allowing us to overcome the heart palpitations that came with each price announcement that followed the suggestions.   I did, however, select a reasonably priced wine (not recommended by the wait staff) that will go down as one of my all-time favs for steak night – the Hess 2007 Napa Cab.

The apps turned out pretty good, with mushrooms stuffed with lump crab meat, complimented by some oysters from Lake Titicaca in Bolivia.  We also dined on some chilled king crab legs.  A lack of calamari or other group-sharing appetizers was somewhat of a noted drawback.  Most of the group went with steaks of the bone-in variety, with Jon Glick, and new, but quietly taking it all in member Cartwright ordering the 33oz Wagyu bone-in ribeye, which was the most expensive steak ($98) on the menu.

Most, if not all the steaks were prepared to perfection, with some complaints loud enough to rise over the now increasingly offensive lounge music from downstairs to be that the meat was chewy or the plates were too hot.  Steaks do need to be chewed and they do need to be heated up to cook.  The sides we enjoyed happened to be quite expensive and oddly bland, or at least have common taste, in lobster mashed potatoes, gorgonzola mac & cheese, creamed corn and garlic sautéed spinach.

Not quite full, we finished the meal off with some of the “recommended” (read: expensive) desserts and coffees with my lovely acquiring a piece of the triple layer cake.  With Glick getting the birthday and seeing the size of the bill, he seized an opportunity to capitalize on an old football pick ‘em bet and self-declared his walking free.  Originally met with groans by the group, the motion was acknowledged and we proceeded to the usual final activities with Jev walking free.  This time, however, there was no rail riding.  He did his best Jay Cutler and walked down the stairs like all the rest of us complete meniscus-having fellas and the night, like the Bears season a couple weeks ago, was finished.

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