Sandwiched mid-block in midtown Manhattan between two chain restaurants and with an entrance beneath a nondescript awning, Bobby Van’s Grill is the sort of establishment that you could pass by every day for years without a second thought.
Should you cross the threshold of this classic New York steakhouse, you’ll find yourself in a wood-paneled dining room hung with mirrors, sconces, and multiple alabaster chandeliers. One of five Manhattan locations of the Bobby Van’s Steakhouse family that was first established in Bridgehampton in 1969, Bobby Van’s Grill opened on West 50th Street in 2006. Filled with tables of businessmen – ties loosened, sport coats hung over their chairs – the capacious room is suffused with an amber glow and the clamor of conversation ringing in counterpoint to ESPN. Males outnumber females approximately three to one.
(Source: MRNY)
Nearly universally recognized, a New York accent rings in your ear like a car alarm and particularly when served up with a side of New York attitude. For years, the waitresses at Boston’s Durgin-Park restaurant have been celebrated for their surly attitude – and the staff at Bobby Van’s Grill has some of that same gruff charm. These are men who’ve been serving steakhouse standards since Paul Castellano’s murder at Sparks Steak House in 1985; in other words, you follow their suggestions and when they tell you there’s no more pecan tart, you say the cheesecake will be fine.
(Source: Bobby Van’s)
If you find yourself desirous of a dash of Olde New York before heading to a Broadway show, then you might consider Bobby Van’s Grill for its prix fixe menu. A choice of three appetizers is offered, which include a daily soup or a salad such as a fennel and tangerine tangle of mesclun. Entree choices include pasta, sirloin steak, or blackened hake with shrimp. Buttery and spicy, the hake (similar in taste to cod or haddock) is redolent of a Cajun meal by Chef Paul Prudhomme – and he, too, would’ve eaten every last flavorful bite.
(Source: MRNY)
For dessert, those pecan tarts that earlier had gone missing made a surprise return, along with a silver pitcher of strong, black coffee. By then, the dining room had emptied save for a few deuces and a celebratory group in the back. Servers pushed trolleys of dishes across the wooden floor as the bartender wiped down the 75-foot bar.
As the motto of Bobby Van’s Steakhouse has it, “We take care of you like your mother would” – and with the energy subdued and a post-prandial contentment blanketing the room, that’s a sentiment that isn’t so hard to believe.
