Since I moved from New York City to Las Vegas, I’ve seen a number of my hometown’s legendary restaurants trace the same path, from Carnegie Deli to Le Cirque. But none possessed the iconic status of Peter Luger’s: Since opening in 1887, the steakhouse has hosted celebrities, athletes, and politicians — a lieutenant governor was even sworn into office mid-meal.
“The president of Caesars Palace approached my grandmother 25 years ago,” says Daniel Turtel, vice president of Peter Luger Steak House. “He called her and she hung up many times over 25 years.” But this year, the stars — and the supply chains — aligned. “The beef industry has evolved. Twenty years ago it was really hard to find enough prime beef to fill one or two restaurants,” Turtel explains, “Everything is hand-selected by family members. It’s a tradition that’s been passed down.”
My own fondness for Luger’s is also a family tradition: My father was a connoisseur of old-school steakhouses and Peter Luger was one of his favorite spots. He loved the trip over the bridge, drinking cocktails at the well-worn wooden bar, and the giant, glistening steaks presented by bow-tied waiters.
But how would the brownstone original’s tablecloth-free dining room, world-weary waiters, and limited selection of dishes transfer to Las Vegas, with our perpetual state of “newly renovated,” dedication to customer coddling, and all-you-can-eat menus?
“We don’t want it to be exactly Brooklyn — we want the quality to be exactly Brooklyn, but it’s really hard to replicate something exactly that’s been there 136 years,” Turtel says. “We’re going to take all the same elements and make it a Vegas version.” And it does land somewhere between Sin City and Gotham City. While the dining room is definitely swankier than the beerhall original, it’s still minimal for Vegas — no big art pieces or bold floral arrangements, just shiny wood or smoked mirrors on the walls. The waiters are gracious, rather than grumpy — the bro at the next table who asked for Hollandaise was politely told there was none available, rather than being scolded for even thinking of putting sauce on meat of this quality. “It’s a service town,” laughs Turtel “it’s a difficult thing to tell someone ‘you should be ruder, you should be a little less accommodating.’”
And, while the Vegas menu offers more options than the Brooklyn version (I believe it’s illegal to open a restaurant here without specialty cocktails or seafood towers), it sticks to steakhouse classics. The appetizer choices include shellfish, salads, and a crab cake constituted of flavorful, flaky meat without a crumb of crumbs. But it’s still hard to beat the restaurant’s legendary bacon. Yes, it’s just bacon, but what bacon: caramelized slabs of meat candy a half-inch thick. Another Peter Luger trademark is Schlag, a sweeter, denser version of whipped cream that is slathered on desserts. Beloved by Barvarians, it’s another vestige of the upscale steakhouse’s roots as a humble German café and bowling alley, as are the golden, beef fat-fried potatoes and creamed spinach that accompany your meat.
But, of course, Peter Luger’s is about the steak. No filets or strip cuts here: only porterhouse and ribeye, dry aged on-site. The original location’s meat locker is a century-old basement near the East River. While the shiny new one built by Caesars Entertainment may seem like an improvement, sterile stainless steel doesn’t foster the kind of funk that makes for optimum aging — and is a Peter Luger signature. According to Turtel, they spent almost a day hosing the new facility down, then “smeared” it with residue from the original.
Once it ascends from the locker and is transmogrified upon the grill, your porterhouse is presented at your table, a tremendous slab of 100 percent USDA prime with a T-bone the size of a billy club, audibly and visibly sizzling on an enormous china platter. There’s no need for flames or flair or flash — the steak itself is event enough.
But does the Vegas version of the Peter Luger porterhouse meet the standard? Has it been selected, aged, prepared like the steaks that earned Michelin stars back in Williamsburg? I raise my fork to my mouth and, for a few moments, the smell and taste take me back a few decades and a few thousand miles, back to drinking Manhattans in Brooklyn, steaks and celebrations with my dad at Peter Luger. “It’s my family legacy,” Turtel says. Mine too.