And I loved it!
Get a load of these steaks enjoyed by my fellow nightlife scribe Frankie C and I at Bobby Van’s Steakhouse at 135 W. 50th Street.
Mine was the simple ribeye (on top), while Frankie’s was pretty much the same thing, but with a way larger bone, for those who like their bones, well, way larger.
It was positively Flintstones.
In fact, they call it their Bedrock steak!
I felt like I could club someone over the head with it and take them home, but I much preferred simply gnawing down, especially since the entree was abetted by a wedge of iceberg, some broccoli rabe, a heap of mashed potatoes, and, ultimately, three lumps of passion fruit sorbet.
If there had been anything leftover, I would surely have brought it home for my pet dinosaur.
But there wasn’t.