I really want to give some background for these 5-stars. Apologies for the long form. Shorter, go eat this frickin' steak.
My grandfather was a US Navy Seabee during WWII. Post-war this meant a long career as a boilermaker, traveling the world and throwing down local fare. One impressionable 70s stop, Buenos Aires and a trip inland for a gaucho meat feast. Result: I distinctly recall standing on a saw dust floor, in butcher shop outside Akron, Ohio in 1974 while my grandfather tried to negotiate the purchase of exotic, almost forbidden, flank steak. Like all Depression-era Americas, he regarded steak as a treat, a Sunday dinner if you were impossibly lucky. We did not play. Steak was serious business.
I started cooking steak when I was about 13, around the same time that a trip to visit uncles in Arizona revealed the wonders of fresh steak fired over pits of mesquite. Simple beef, sweet smoke, and huge portions. Other highlights over the years: the Amish market outside DC with glistening, hours-old cuts which almost spoke to you; a Ruth Chris creamed spinach side that completely blew away its overpriced, butter-laden steak farce; a chilly, cold ranch outside Flagstaff, forgotten in time. Steak not.
So given the glowing reviews of the joint, I was hopeful about Flat Iron, but far, far from convinced. And UK friends, understand this had nothing to do with locale, much more to do with rampant, universal, and uninformed steak hype. To maximize the positive vibe tho, we timed to hit this location slightly past the lunch rush. So, frankly, were the meal a bust, we could adjust. Twenty minutes after checking in, our party of four landed in the tiny (by US standards) but woody and warm space looking to get our steak on.
And unless there is burger special on, your choice is -- a flat iron steak.
Just do it. Order it no more than medium (medium rare is the sweet spot) and add a sauce -- peppercorn is great, the house Bearnaise sublime. Make sure you get the house cup o salad with an insane mustard dressing and -- well, the chips are wonderfully non-greasy and dip into the Bearnaise with EVIL ease, but for me the chopped, near minced, creamed spinach was a vital side. Sweet jebus.
Contrasted with the rich, meaty char of the flat iron, the spinach was amazing. None of the bitter, herbal taste you can get with spinach, yet all of the earthy iron. Oh, earthy rich iron? Hello beef on beef flat iron -- prepped with just enough salt to make it zing without covering up the natural sweetness of this high-grade cut. Zero waste, zero fat, zero complaints.
My grandfather would be jealous. That's all I got. read more