Yes, Daley is leaving. And yes, Oprah is bidding farewell too.
But long, tedious, tearful good-byes have really never been this city’s style.
We’re more of the big, juicy slab of hello types.
So, give a hearty howdy-do to Chicago Cut Steakhouse, which, starting Monday, will serve as a new headquarters for handshakes, backslaps and deal making along the river.
Now, you could come in through the front entrance—nothing wrong with that. It’s in the same building as one of the town’s biggest law firms and hedge funds. You’ll pass wine cabinets stacked to the gold-leafed ceiling while lawyers, money managers and consultants help their clients make frugal decisions—namely that, yes, magnums are a better ounce-for-ounce value than bottles.
But say you’re indulging your noon predilection for giant turkey and ham sandwiches (also: midday martinis). Slip in through the back door, through the kitchen, past the caves where steaks are busy dry-aging, and pop out directly into the bar’s lunchtime carving station.
After business hours, you’ll want to do your romancing in a riverside patio. Before you order that aged prime rib eye or baked Alaska for dessert, your server will bring over an iPad wine menu, letting you flip through regions as easily as you flip through song titles.
Or maybe you’ll just put it on shuffle.
But long, tedious, tearful good-byes have really never been this city’s style.
We’re more of the big, juicy slab of hello types.
So, give a hearty howdy-do to Chicago Cut Steakhouse, which, starting Monday, will serve as a new headquarters for handshakes, backslaps and deal making along the river.
Now, you could come in through the front entrance—nothing wrong with that. It’s in the same building as one of the town’s biggest law firms and hedge funds. You’ll pass wine cabinets stacked to the gold-leafed ceiling while lawyers, money managers and consultants help their clients make frugal decisions—namely that, yes, magnums are a better ounce-for-ounce value than bottles.
But say you’re indulging your noon predilection for giant turkey and ham sandwiches (also: midday martinis). Slip in through the back door, through the kitchen, past the caves where steaks are busy dry-aging, and pop out directly into the bar’s lunchtime carving station.
After business hours, you’ll want to do your romancing in a riverside patio. Before you order that aged prime rib eye or baked Alaska for dessert, your server will bring over an iPad wine menu, letting you flip through regions as easily as you flip through song titles.
Or maybe you’ll just put it on shuffle.
