Ray's the Classics

Mike and I last Saturday wrangled tornadoes to get to Ray's the Classics. Along with my trusty Jetta, Babe the blue ox, Mike, playing Paul Bunyan, successfully hewed problematic roadways, navigating me around foreboding puddles, tricky interchanges, and confusing planned shopping areas. And I can't imagine a better place to end up at the end of a harrowing 30-minute drive to Maryland than a steakhouse.

I'm knowingly muddling my folklore.

Virginia did flood that weekend and tornadoes did touch down south of DC, but that didn't stop two heroes of food folklore from closing down the restaurant. Ray's the Classics is a steakhouse of the franchise that includes Ray's Hell Burger and Ray's the Steaks, two restaurants that have made an indelible impression on the food lore of my friends and family: the former was delicious but gave me and my brother stomach aches and the latter was eviscerated nearly two years ago by an amateur food critic.

Because it was on the list, though, we had to try it and it seemed appropriately full-circle to go here as Mike was the person we were celebrating at the blog's significant run-in with a Ray's restaurant the first time. True to Ray's form, we started off with spiced cashews and Parkerhouse rolls. I didn't have to fight with Mike over eating another roll as they are un-Paleo friendly, but I wouldn't have needed to anyway due to their uncomplimentary texture. Not looking good, yet, Ray.

Mike admirably pulled out the big guns when he ordered his salad. "Does the Caesar salad come with anchovies?" he asked. When the waiter said no, Mike said he's like some, please. Whole anchovies, that is. In a non-patronizing way, I was quite proud.

I got the "devlishly good eggs," which I was thinking about days before when I first saw the menu. Two hard-boiled eggs were stuffed with hand-chopped steak tartare, served devilled egg-style. I didn't find the steak tartare too tender and its flavor wasn't appealing. Despite getting points for cleverness in combining the presentation of steak tartare and devilled eggs--the onion and cornichons accoutrements were for steak tartare and there was crumbled egg yolks on the plate--it didn't work. I was much happier just drinking the red wine.

In true American folkhero style, Mike got the The Cowboy, a massive bone-in rib eye with grilled red onions and horseradish cream. Mike acknowledged it was a Fred Flintstone-sized steak, but proceeded to defeat it, bite by bite (unfortunately a before and after picture is not available).

I swallowed my pride and ordered a NY Strip (self-respecting Kansas Citians use the abbreviation of their own town to describe it) and wasn't disappointed in my slow foray beyond filets. It was tender and flavorful, girded by peppercorns and served with a port/peppercorn cream sauce. It was satisfyingly opulent like hot fudge sauce.

We felt obligated to get creamed spinach because it seems an imperative at a throw-back steakhouse.

But then that prompted a serious discussion on steakhouses. Would either of us come back to Ray's the Classics? Probably not. There was nothing exceptional about it. The steaks were tremendous but nothing else was: not the appetizers, salads, or sides. The ambiance wasn't bad but wasn't remarkable. The music wasn't memorable and it didn't have the formality of a Ruth's Chris nor the comfortable working-man's-ness of a Cattleman's in Oklahoma City.

We were the last to leave but we didn't linger excessively. Everything beyond the conversation and company (of course) was rather mediocre prompting the two us to try and determine: what is it that makes a good steakhouse? Morton's has reliable service and presentation, but a rather unvaried menu. Ray's the Steaks is high on pretension but scored sub-zero points for service with steaks that were akin to any other fine steakhouse's steaks. We each had our personal preferences for steakhouses but it seems a good steakhouse must boast high marks in all categories--service, taste, ambiance and variety--yet deign an additional extraneous gift to the diner. For me, that was jazz at the Majestic Steakhouse in Kansas City, the historic yet delightfully seedy location of the Golden Ox, also in downtown KC, the popovers at BLT Steak in downtown DC, an exquisite sauce that didn't hide the delicious flavor of the meat at Chez Georges in Paris. Some outside factor either complemented the taste of the food or deliberately staked out a memorable ambiance for the diner.

For dessert, Mike ordered both the key lime pie and the strawberries in cream to share (I was going to get the pie two but was frozen in indecision when he got it first). Both had homemade whipped cream. Nobody was raputurous, but they weren't bad. Dessert came with a side of panic when we worried the restaurant was already closed (we had another half hour).

We ended the evening with Ray's signature chocolate peanut butter bark--which melted in my fingers. We lassoed the car, bounded over puddles, flicked away nuisance twisters, and squashed the 55th restaurant on the list like a bug.