My husband talked me into this restaurant. He swore up and down that they were delicious. So, during my once-a-month need to eat a bloody hunk of cow, I acquiesced, and we drove to this lovely establishment located off I 271 (the map says Outerbelt Freeway for some reason, that's 271... near Chagrin).
This is an upscale restaurant. While I did not note a dress code, it was obvious the atmosphere was definitely at least casual, if not better. Most of those in attendance wore khakis or suits, and the women wore nicer apparel, such as skirts. That didn't stop us from showing up in jeans, and we were not turned away.
The seating is nice, and it does have a nice steakhouse smell... in fact, when you are driving down the freeway in the summer with your windows down, you can smell the woodsmoke from their grill.
And this woodsmoke is exactly why I didn't enjoy my food. I ordered a porterhouse, which the menu lists as being mesquite smoked. Well, I like good flavor, so I gave it a go. Medium rare, like I normally order, with a side of green beans and some yummy mashed potatoes. Normal steakhouse bread, and a lovely caesar side salad, too.
All of the sides were great. The salad was crisp and served on a chilled bowl, like it is supposed to be. There were not 9,000 things in it either, just a nice caesar salad with the exact amount of dressing. The green beans were cooked perfectly, and seasoned with garlic and butter. The mashed potatoes, more like smashed because the skins were on, were delectable and just plain delicious. I am sure they are mashed with cream, and just looking at them surely put 5 lbs on my waist.
The steak. The paragon of meat-eating virtue. The holy cow. The prime cut of Bessie. Was sacrilege.
Maybe I just have a different interpretation of mesquite, but I swear my steak, while cooked to order, tasted like a funky version of teriaki. That is gross. There is no other way to put it. If I wanted teriaki, I would have gone to Bennehana.
So, $18.99 later, I had a steak that really tasted like a juicy bit of jerky. So I did what any wife would do, I stole some of his steak (which was coated in bleu cheese, which I hate, but tasted better), filled up on sides, and politely declined dessert when the waiter finally showed back up. Which, that is a separate complaint... he disappeared on several occassions. When he finally did come back, it was really just to fish for a tip.
In the end, we were $60 lighter and I have a steak I will always remember. The one I didn't finish and the restaurant I will probably never go back to.