Smith & Wollensky
Guest review by my dear friend Aiden Herrod, who went to a fancy steakhouse without me.
It’s me Aiden Herrod, ubiquitous movie snob, crashing One More Bite to commemorate a crossover that’s been a long time coming. The NYC restaurant scene has had plenty of iconic restaurants featured in equally iconic movies over the years. So for this week’s review, Sinead and I are highlighting a movie/restaurant pairing very near and dead to both our hearts; American Psycho and the iconic NYC steakhouse featured in one of its pivotal scenes, Smith and Wollensky.
No, it’s not Dorsia. If Patrick Bateman couldn’t score a reservation there, I certainly don’t have a chance in hell. That being said, I’m gonna utter a phrase Paul Allen wouldn’t dare say; Dorsia sounds overrated. A lot of the new-age gastronomical experiences that American Psycho’s fictional Dorsia was built to mock are often all smoke and no fire. Sure, plenty of NYC’s most hyped eateries live up to their lofty expectations. Some of my favorite all-time meals came at the hands of the fancy and experimental, like Tatiana or Kochi. But when I seek a meal that will stick with me for months, years even, and satiate me so well I’m just about ready to enter a monthslong hibernation, I most often turn to the not-so-humble steakhouse instead. Enter Smith and Wollensky, one of New York’s most recognizable, quintessential steakhouse offerings in a city filled to the brim with them.
I’m a simple man. When I desire a hefty, excessive helping of red meat, I seek it out. This impulse has led me to plenty of steaks big and small, serving purposes ranging from celebratory to survival. The sheer range of form factors I’ve encountered make me feel more qualified to talk about steaks and steakhouses than a great number of things, possible only behind movies and fish tacos. In classic movie writer fashion, I’ll take a moment to rattle off all the different forms of steak that have stuck in my mind, Forrest Gump style:
Ribeye, NY strip, filet mignon, flank steak, skirt steak, steak frites, carne asada, steak sandwich, steakburger, Trader Joe’s frozen steak, Wegman’s steak, steak burrito…
So when I say that Smith and Wollensky stands out as one of NYC’s, and therefore the world’s, foremost steakhouse offerings, I like to think that claim carries some weight.
The context for my trip to Smith and Wollensky could not have been more perfect. Picture my dad and I celebrating my 25th birthday, fresh off a weekday broadway showing of The Outsiders, climbing into a yellow cab to make a beeline to the other side of midtown for a 10pm res. Yes, 10pm. And yet when we walked through the grand double doors of the unmistakable green building perched on the corner of 3rd and 49th, it could have been peak service on a Friday night. The place was crammed end to end with wide-eyed tourists, affluent regulars, and sprawling groups celebrating everything from promotions to engagements.
My biggest piece of advice for tackling Smith and Wollensky; go for a special occasion. Not just to justify the prices you’d expect from a spendy midtown steakhouse, but to fully seize the unique opportunity Smith and Wollensky provides. It’s an intimidating place at first. Old-world decor ripped straight from a country club, impeccably dressed servers boasting even more impeccable service, a menu that might not have changed once since the 70s—it’s about as American Psycho of a place you could ask for. But when you walk in there ready to celebrate something truly worthy of the all-out splurge Smith and Wollensky beckons, you feel energized in a way few restaurants can match. Walk in there ready and willing to order the biggest, bloodiest cut of meat. Say yes to any line of questioning around a seafood tower. Say yes to those second and third dirty martinis. Chat with your server, chat with the table next door. You’re here because you earned it, so treat Smith and Wollensky like the award it was meant to be.
That brings me to the food. I had the fortune to try the aforementioned over-the-top cut of meat and seafood tower. Both were exquisite. My go-to cut of meat is a ribeye, allowing me to experience varying degrees of fat marbling and texture across different bites. Smith and Wollensky’s was cooked to my medium rare preference with a delicate precision, simply yet perfectly seasoned with salt and pepper, and boasted a crust that is presently making my mouth water just thinking about it. My dad and I often joke that the best meat-centric meals will cause “meat sweats” the following night. Needless to say such jokes were prophetic of the night to come.
The seafood tower meanwhile was emblematic of the sheer excess and silliness that steakhouses often pride themselves on. Name a shellfish, they had it. And a sauce custom-built to complement it, too. While a dedicated raw bar might have Smith and Wollensky beat for sheer quality and freshness, it was the crowning element of our meal that took things from great to out of this world. Surf and turf, DIY-style.
I can’t wrap up this review without mentioning the dirty martinis, which were strong enough to get a visiting diplomat to spill state secrets. I firmly believe a martini’s quality is impacted most by the context in which you drink it, which Smith and Wollensky epitomized with flying colors. However, there’s still a few basic things you need to get right. The right balance of gin and vermouth, meaty and flavorful olives, adding the right amount of brine, and of course chilling everything to perfection. Needless to say, ordering that second martini was not a tough decision.
When you find yourself needing a reminder of the excess and style that made NYC great, go to Smith and Wollensky. When you have a moment truly worth celebrating, go to Smith and Wollensky. Or maybe you found a wad of 20s hidden in your jeans, and are craving a perfectly cooked, heaping cut of red meat. If such a case arises, go to Smith and Wollensky. It’s a steakhouse masterclass, the best execution of a concept pre-dating multiple world wars. It’s not your new go-to midtown lunch, or a hidden gem to wow your friends with. It’s definitely not pushing any boundaries other than your belt loop. It’s simply Smith and Wollensky, full stop.