The classic Chicago steakhouse holds a pretty special place in your heart. The Flintstonian rib eyes. The
football-sized baked potatoes. The leopard-printed cougars.
We wouldn’t dream of meddling. We just want to introduce you to a younger, prettier steakhouse. Because we think you two crazy kids just might click.
Say hello to Grass Fed, a new place to indulge in excessive meat consumption and adventure cocktailing, now soft-open in Bucktown.
This is perhaps the most date-friendly spot ever devoted entirely to sirloin. As you enter, the aroma of searing meat and a gentle haze of smoke wafting heavenward will greet you. You’ll be surrounded by whitewashed paneling and giant twinkling lanterns. It all feels a little like January Jones wearing free-range-beef-scented perfume.
So soon after walking in, you’re going to be thinking: “Steak. I’m going to order a steak.” Good instinct. Go with it.
On the menu: sirloin. Salad. French fries. $25. The end. No fish. No chicken. No 100-day-dry-aged tenderloin wrapped in bacon and salted with angel tears. Although they do have asparagus and brussels sprouts.
Still, no steakhouse is truly a steakhouse without a chai-infused bourbon on hand. Hence, the Arnold Shankar. Or you could also go with a Sandia Caliente, a watermelon margarita with jalapeño-infused tequila.
In case you had a three-Arnold-Shankar lunch earlier in the day.
We wouldn’t dream of meddling. We just want to introduce you to a younger, prettier steakhouse. Because we think you two crazy kids just might click.
Say hello to Grass Fed, a new place to indulge in excessive meat consumption and adventure cocktailing, now soft-open in Bucktown.
This is perhaps the most date-friendly spot ever devoted entirely to sirloin. As you enter, the aroma of searing meat and a gentle haze of smoke wafting heavenward will greet you. You’ll be surrounded by whitewashed paneling and giant twinkling lanterns. It all feels a little like January Jones wearing free-range-beef-scented perfume.
So soon after walking in, you’re going to be thinking: “Steak. I’m going to order a steak.” Good instinct. Go with it.
On the menu: sirloin. Salad. French fries. $25. The end. No fish. No chicken. No 100-day-dry-aged tenderloin wrapped in bacon and salted with angel tears. Although they do have asparagus and brussels sprouts.
Still, no steakhouse is truly a steakhouse without a chai-infused bourbon on hand. Hence, the Arnold Shankar. Or you could also go with a Sandia Caliente, a watermelon margarita with jalapeño-infused tequila.
In case you had a three-Arnold-Shankar lunch earlier in the day.
