You don’t throw around these words lightly. You reserve them for the kind of person who—without so much as glancing at a menu—just went all in and ordered that terrifyingly large 38-ounce tomahawk steak at Michael Jordan’s Steak House, opening tomorrow on Michigan Avenue.
The Michael Jordan in the name—believe it or not—used to play basketball in town. (Good player, loved steak.) After perfecting this concept in Connecticut and New York—well-known as the farm leagues of steak towns—he felt confident enough in his ability to dry-age prime beef to return.
Nestled on two floors of the historic building housing the InterContinental hotel, it follows the upscale leather-and-mahogany steakhouse playbook. Sports memorabilia range from subtle (an abstract wooden sculpture with the number 23) to nonexistent (though you’ve been known to get very competitive with lobster thermidor).
For casual business lunches, there’s the low-ceilinged lounge with a curved marble bar, where you’ll eat custom-blended hamburgers and a garlic bread blue cheese fondue. But for dinner, guide your associates purposefully up the staircase (also marble), cross over a small glass catwalk, past ornate pillars, and take up that large corner semicircular booth. Lead your team through tastings of sirloins, lobster mashed potatoes and finally a 23-layer cake for dessert.
Up next: Scottie Pippen’s Taco Hut.