After a relatively late decision on where to dine this month, Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse proved to be a overwhelming success.  Both Holinger and Glick ditched out in favor of the Shakira concert, which really doesn’t require further elaboration.  The evening started per usual with a bountiful harvest of spirits that ran up quite a bar tab.  Zebro was working the scotch list just like Sandusky & young thighs as it came to light that there was a delinquent poster in November.  Mr. Cole, notorious for previous posting transgressions, just so happened to post at 12:06am on Friday the 18th which is exactly 6 minutes and 1 second too late.  There are rules people, this isn’t Nam.  As such, we were patiently awaiting Mr. Cole’s arrival to take care of said bar tab, which he promptly denied us on.

This shall be revisited next month at 7:59pm January 5th.

Moving along, we were led upstairs to our table which was a high top for 6.  Somewhat of an odd setup and I must say, not my preference.  The atmosphere as a whole is among the best in my opinion of the recent entrants into the Chicago Steakhouse realm.  The starters were all a great success.  The carpaccio was impeccable and the double smoked bacon nearly stopped my heart.  Crenshaw was kind enough to throw all steak night protocol to the wind and order wine on my behalf.  Luckily it was a decent selection and more followed shortly.  I selected the prime delmonico with a ginger balsamic jus, which is a major change in my typical filet order.  I was absolutely enamoured with this fine cut of meat and made short work of it.  The sides were small and really not meant for a group of our size to share.  The mashed potato trio was a nice setup with the lobster mashed being the star.

It was a bold decision to follow dinner up with a trip to Alive One but alas not every decision made is a good one.  Until next month, zee german.

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