Once again the gentlemen descend on Saloon. It was a full boat for the first time in recent memory. Exceptional oysters Rockefeller and calamari to, dare I say it, rival The Capital Grille’s led the way, crabcakes and shrimp cocktail following. A little New England Clam Chowder – “Is that the white or the red?”

We were there for the Wagyu ribeye. For the first time all of us ordered the same steak with only one variation in preparation. Yukon gold mashed potatoes get high marks, au gratin, a little creamed spinach and asparagus following close behind. The wine flowed in a way some suggested was similar to the Smith & Wollensky’s debacle.

Chris walked free, it was my birthday. It was my last steak night as a resident of Chicago.

Life is variation: the chase, the grind, the risks, the highs and lows, its peaks and valleys marked by moments of levity and sorrow. It’s difficult to write the end of a chapter in one’s life, as exciting as I know the next one will be. That difficulty is compounded when you’ve shared those moments of levity with the finest gentlemen in Chicago. For years. This ritual will be something I think of on every first Thursday, something I plan to make travel arrangements around, to reach back to a time when it was just a cab ride away.

To those moments, past and future, gentlemen. To Steaks, Cigars and Dreams. Salut.

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