Forks: for suckers.
Knives: please.
Manners: not today, Jack.
Now let’s grab you an apron and some meat, and get primitive.
Slide down the evolution chart for Beefsteak Dinner at the Copper Room, a monthly exercise in bottomless steak eating that eschews all manner of utensils not called “your hands,” next happening tomorrow in Meatpacking.
Apparently, these dinners were all the rage back in the 19th century (and probably the first). A ritual of people eating unearthly amounts of steak using only the forks God gave them. This’ll be just like that, but with a Minetta Tavern chef helping put it together every final Wednesday of the month.
Our suggestion: bring a bunch of buddies whose brackets have been decimated and get some aggression out. You’ll buy tickets by emailing here and show up tomorrow at 7:30pm at Brass Monkey. Because that’s where the Copper Room is—a big rustic house of reclaimed factory stuff and lengthy beer taps inside another bar.
Just sit. Have a pint. Marvel at the procession of ribeye. And flat iron steak. And bone marrow. And so on. You’ll look around hesitantly... notice everyone else doing the same... and then, well, you’ll tear into dinner. With your hands. And teeth. And that’s it. You’ll stop when you can go no further.
Or when you’ve run out of napkins.
Knives: please.
Manners: not today, Jack.
Now let’s grab you an apron and some meat, and get primitive.
Slide down the evolution chart for Beefsteak Dinner at the Copper Room, a monthly exercise in bottomless steak eating that eschews all manner of utensils not called “your hands,” next happening tomorrow in Meatpacking.
Apparently, these dinners were all the rage back in the 19th century (and probably the first). A ritual of people eating unearthly amounts of steak using only the forks God gave them. This’ll be just like that, but with a Minetta Tavern chef helping put it together every final Wednesday of the month.
Our suggestion: bring a bunch of buddies whose brackets have been decimated and get some aggression out. You’ll buy tickets by emailing here and show up tomorrow at 7:30pm at Brass Monkey. Because that’s where the Copper Room is—a big rustic house of reclaimed factory stuff and lengthy beer taps inside another bar.
Just sit. Have a pint. Marvel at the procession of ribeye. And flat iron steak. And bone marrow. And so on. You’ll look around hesitantly... notice everyone else doing the same... and then, well, you’ll tear into dinner. With your hands. And teeth. And that’s it. You’ll stop when you can go no further.
Or when you’ve run out of napkins.
