Heston Supper Club

Tonight was our anniversary dinner, so Jen and I headed to Heston Supper Club. We've been here before. I already knew the prime rib was going to be good. What caught me off guard tonight were the damn seats. They're not horrible. They're just...not comfortable. You notice it about twenty minutes in. You shift a little. Then you shift again. I even mentioned it to our waitress. She laughed and said, "I know." I told her it wasn't exactly conducive to me wanting to sit there and enjoy dinner. She laughed again. I remember thinking, "For what this place costs, that's really not funny." The dining room is dim enough that I assume it's supposed to be romantic and/or dark enough you can't count the wrinkles on your date's face. Every table has one of those fake tea lights that looks convincing until you touch it. Plastic. Safe. Probably for the best. As the place filled up, one thing became clear. Jen and I were not the only fatbacks in attendance. That's not an insult. That's what happens when you build your reputation around serving great food. People who enjoy eating find you. Everyone around us seemed friendly enough but completely wrapped up in their own conversations. Jen and I, both in our early fifties, were still among the younger crowd unless you counted the young lady keeping everyone's water glasses full. Heston has been doing this cheese basket thing forever. Sliced bread, breadsticks, crackers, and an artisanal flatbread that tastes just enough like pizza. Slather on some of that beer cheese and you've got yourself a dangerous way to kill time before dinner. Jen was happily helping until she remembered she doesn't eat bread. Jen ordered the off menu appetizer, brat bites and I ordered the escargot to share. The brat bites disappeared almost immediately. Flaky pastry wrapped around brats with a creamy dipping sauce that made them vanish. You can church it up all you want but I know a fancy pig in a blanket when I see one. They were good. The escargot was buttery, garlicky, kissed with pesto, and exactly what I wanted. My only complaint? There were snails in it!! For a place this classy, you'd think they could keep the snails out of the food. It's not like they move very fast. (with a nod to Steve Martin in The Jerk) My spinach salad was loaded with bacon, mushrooms, red onion, hard boiled egg, blue cheese crumbles, craisins, and vinaigrette. Fresh, balanced. It doesn't feel like you're settling because you ordered vegetables. Then came the French onion soup. Sweet mother of Moses. The broth is made from the drippings of their prime rib, and you can taste every bit of it. Rich, deep, beefy flavor with onions that still had some structure instead of dissolving into mush. The cheese pull was absolutely ridiculous. I quit pretending I had manners, picked up the crock with both hands, and drank straight from the bowl. Worth every side eye I received!! If you've never drank (drunk?) soup directly from the bowl, understand that's about the highest compliment I know how to give soup. The steamed green beans with peppers and onions were fresh but a little bland. They just needed a pinch of garlic and salt. The horseradish mashed potatoes were exactly what they should have been. Let's not kid ourselves. Nobody is making the drive to Heston's because they're craving mashed potatoes or green beans. They're coming for the prime rib. I've had prime rib at Gibson's in Chicago. Carved right at my table at Lawry's in Las Vegas as well as House of Prime Rib in San Francisco. I've had prime rib at Gallaghers in NYC... tonight none of them mattered. Heston wins! Perfect medium rare. Warm all the way through. Not overloaded with fat but with enough marbling to make every bite count. It didn't so much cut as surrender. Add just a touch horseradish sauce and brother...I'm one happy fat guy. Our waitress found that perfect balance. She was attentive without being up our asses every five minutes asking if everything was "amazing." Drinks stayed full. Empty plates disappeared. When we politely declined dessert she simply smiled and brought the check. By that point the old bastard who was grumbling about chairs had shut the hell up. Jen and I spent the evening eating, laughing, talking, making up stories about the other tables, and enjoying another anniversary together. It wasn't cheap, a little more than Olive Garden if you are into that kind of generic, chain, corporate driven place, but the quality isn't even playing the same sport. The leftovers are already in the refrigerator because tomorrow morning's breakfast is going to involve prime rib and eggs. It just now hit me. I know exactly why those seats aren't comfortable. If those chairs were comfortable, I would've sat there eating, drinking tea, and talking with Jen until they had to roll my fat ass out through the service entrance.