Boeufhaus
Toto, we’re not at Peter Luger anymore. This narrow Ukrainian Village storefront belongs to a new breed of steakhouse, the kind with butcher-block tables and impeccably sourced cuts of meat and an of-the-moment wine list full of funky sparklings and cloudy reds. The atmosphere is that of a cozy neighborhood farm-to-table restaurant, but the menu hews to an old-world brasserie template perfected generations ago. There are crudités to start—as sprightly and artfully arranged as you’d expect from two chefs who met working at a Daniel Boulud restaurant. In place of a wedge salad, there is the Salade du Marché, snappy and crisp and ever-so-lightly dressed. The main course is as it should be: a handsome rib eye, aged 55 days, sliced thick and settled into a slowly forming pool of its beefy juices. The menu dabbles in the carbohydrates of Germany (tiny twists of leek spaetzle) and Italy (hearty chickpea-flour cavatelli) because the only rule about this generation of steakhouse is to play by its own rules.
PRO TIP: The dimly lit room is best suited for dinner, but that’s a shame, because the lunch sandwiches—cheesesteaks, Reubens, and the like—are epic.
THE DETAILS: Reservations recommended.
