It was a few years ago and I was visiting the Twin Cities to witness the Vikings lose to the Green Bay Packers, an event that was something like getting shot with a nail gun. On my way into downtown Minneapolis, in a December snowstorm, I had asked the cab driver, an old codger, which restaurant served the best steak in town. He seemed like he had eaten a few, back when his teeth were in working order. Or even lived in his mouth full-time.
He didn’t pause before saying, “Murrays on Fifth” and proceeded to tell me about the time he drove a limo and deposited the Rat Pack (Frank, Dino, Sammy and Joey) there some thirty years earlier. Apparently, Murrays, a local institution for over fifty years, was the go-to place for hipsters back in the day, and remains the secret spot for local athletes. And Prince. Seriously.
“But what about the steak?” I enquired. I hate hipsters, after all. He then told me about steak so tender you could actually cut it with a butter knife. It was called the “Silver Butter Knife Steak.” Oh dear. I can barely remember saying, “Take me there,” through the haze of expectation mixed with a little drool.
Murrays offers the requisite pork chops and other steakhouse fare like tuna and swordfish. But, listen; if you aren’t going for the steak, you are a fool. Carved tableside, the steak sits atop a platter of sizzling butter and is perfectly seasoned. And true to its Midwestern roots, the portions are somewhere just beyond enormous.
One quibble I did have with Murrays is that the name ‘Silver Butter Knife Steak’ is misleading.
You can actually cut it with a fork.
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