I, Jason, haven’t been a very good steward of the Steak Adventures site, and have completely forgotten to do a writeup of our 5A5 Steak Adventure.

Fortunately, Cathy did, and so our official review of 5A5 is written by her. Your guides on this Adventure were Cathy, Ying and me, with the inaugural outing of Guest Adventurer Kevin.

Between poor cooking methods, strange preparations, and what appears to be just bad shopping, we’d begun to think we’d have to give up steak to have an amazing adventure. You’d have to go back to our Bob’s visit in 2004 to find another five star steak group rating. So it is with great delight that we report that the steaks at 5A5 are bordering on miraculous.

We set up our own not-very-blind tasting of dry aged T-Bone, dry aged bone-in New York, strip steak (the least expensive cut on the menu) and A5 Wagyu ($16 per ounce). While the differences were noticeable, all were excellent quality and perfectly prepared. The T-Bone had the two distinct cuts and flavors one would expect (but somehow Jason never gets) set off with delicious slightly greasy fried onions. The bone-in New York had a marvelous texture and finish boosted by truffle butter and morels. The strip steak had a slightly mealier texture, possibly from being cooked longer than the others, but was perked up by a combination of miso, pesto, and ginger. And the Wagyu had that distinct melt-away texture and a finish that lingered like fine wine.

Good thing, since fine wine was one of the things that was hard to find at 5A5. The wine list ranges from pedestrian to insanely over-priced. Cathy and Ying went through it line by line and consulted the waiter twice before settling on cocktails and a $40 half-bottle of bordeaux. One can only hope that the managers will invite some of our clever wine folks from the Santa Cruz mountains, Paso Robles, and Amador to pay a visit and make suggestions.

Another disappointment was the side dishes, although here we may be partly to blame. We did not order either of the seasonal options – fresh corn and mixed wild mushrooms – which might have been better choices. The asparagus were pathetic stringing specimens and judging by the thickness (or lack thereof) from extremely old plants. Two of us also liked the fingerlings, but they were dripping in lemon which isn’t to everyone’s taste. The truffle fries were delicious, although the garlic dipping sauce was strong enough to send everyone’s taste-buds into oblivion.

It’s hard to know how to rate the atmosphere. There is a difference between ‘bad’ and ‘not our thing’ and 5A5 definitely falls into the latter category. The setting would be appropriate for Judy Jetson’s date with pop singer Jet Screamer. But the low squishy couch matched with the round modern table was just uncomfortable for someone not 21. And the pink lighting may have set a great mood, but it made actually seeing anything more challenging than we like.

Our spirits were lifted by the wonderful waitstaff. Our captain made regular appearances and terrific suggestions, but didn’t act like he wanted to join our party. And the pacing of the meal was what one would hope for at that price.

---

5A5 Steak Lounge

244 Jackson Street
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 989-2539

Let’s see if we can make this quick:

1. Should you go to Epic Roasthouse? Yes.

2. Will you have a good time? Absolutely.

2. Will you enjoy a great steak dinner? Reply hazy. Try again later.

Of course, for a high-end steakhouse, a Magic Eight Ball prognostication is a tough cut to swallow. But let’s start from the top, shall we?

This Steak Adventure featured all three Original Adventurers, plus the inaugural outing for Guest Adventurer Marija. The occasion was a delayed birthday celebration for Cathy, sponsored by her very generous uncle. We were all looking forward to trying our first steakhouse run by a celebrity chef and Jan Birnbaum, who hails from New Orleans where he worked under Paul Prudhomme, has built an incredible reputation in the Bay Area. 

Our expectations were further raised by the stunning location right on the San Francisco waterfront. Now, there’s usually only one reason to go to a steakhouse and it’s not for the views, but damn, Epic had some steller sitelines. Sitting right on the Embarcdero, just beyond the Bay Bridge, the spectacular views entranced us as the sun did its late evening march across the sky. It was one of those great San Francisco sights that tourists write home about and we locals too often take for granted.

The view didn’t end when the sun went down either, as the room itself was equally impressive, with giant, heavy and supple leather chairs just begging for the men in the party to act like gentlemen, and what was supposed to be the reimagination of “the pump station that might have saved San Francisco in 1906”. Though not everyone may appreciate this giant wheel and hugh piping, it did give those without a Bay view something dramatic to look at. This extended to the salt tray, with its three different kinds of salt: Black Lava, Pink Himalayan, and French Sea Salt. One may be tempted to say that everything here is all about presentation.

But, like I said, you don’t go to a steakhouse for the views. We were there to eat and so we did and rather enjoyably, if not perfectly.

The best part of the meal may have come at the beginning, with terrific drinks and a tasty selection of appetizers. The bar menu includes classics such as a sidecar, the Sazerac and a refreshing Pimm’s cup, along with house creations like a Fennel Gimlet and the Treasure Island for two. The wine list has some wonderful options offered by the “splash” or glass.  While we were disappointed that the sommelier never came to our table, the waiter (a Joel-Grey-in-Brothers & Sisters look-alike) helped us pick out a very tasty and reasonably priced Priorat from Spain.

For appetizers, Cathy had the home-smoked sturgeon on a potato cake, which came with an unusually generous portion of caviar, while Marija had the Red Leaf Lettuce and Radicchio Salad. Ying ordered the Roasted Marrow Bones with Tomato Jam and Garlic Toast.

Without the jam and bread, the bone marrow was little more than flavorless fat, but once spread on the baguette, Ying declared it ‘heaven’ and ‘to die for’ which, I suppose, sort of go together.

For sides, we went full out and ordered Sautéed Wild Mushrooms, Truffle Whipped Potatoes, Onion Rings with Anchovy Tomato Catsup, Steak Potatoes and Asparagus with Béarnaise Sauce. The whipped potaotes were amazing: fluffy and creamy without being heavy and overly fatty. Both Cathy and I named these our favorite. Cathy and Ying also enjoyed the fresh, juicy wild mushrooms (which Ying decided was her favorite side). The asparagus was tender and the onion rings perfectly crispy. Any of us would have happily made a meal out of just the sides and been satisfied. They were masterfully prepared and sufficiently generous (unlike at Ruth’s Chris where we got four spears of steak fries for five people).

 

As good as the appetizers and sides were, it’s the steak that brought us to Epic, and it’s the steak that will push Epic over the top or into the Bay.

The speacility beef was the Prime Rib. So precious is it that there are a limited number cuts each night, and you have to get there early enough to secure a slice. Cathy got her order in in time, and when it arrived, I half-expected it to tilt the table, Flintstone’s style, it was so huge. It comes from “the best ranch in Colorado” and was tender and had a good flavor, some of which came from an herbal and salt rub.  But at $42 a slice it should have been mind-blowing and had something on the plate other than a shine.

Ying had the New York Strip, cooked medium well. The flavor was wonderful, despite big chunks of fat surrounding the steak (which is somewhat to be expected a strip cut).

I ordered the Porterhouse. Normally this is two distinct cuts of meat separated by a bone. The two halves are as different as can be and are challenging to cook well, and therefore are a good test of the skills of the kitchen staff.

Epic failed here. The Porterhouse was just a bad piece of meat—a $54 bad piece of meat. First, the beef didn’t have the traditional distinct cuts. (Perhaps Epic uses the British Commonwealth definition of ‘Porterhouse’?) Second the meat was inexplicably tough, both to cut and to chew, despite being ordered ‘medium’. I ended up returning the dish in favor of a New York Strip like Ying ordered, but, perhaps because of their rush to replace the dish (or the strange wheeled contraption they use to raise and lower the meat over the fire), it came out unevenly cooked, and closer to rare than the requested medium, making it nearly inedible.

(A note on the waitstaff: The Joel Grey look-alike was very helpful in many ways, including moving quickly to replace the Porterhouse. He also assisted Marija in her entreé selection, and got our order into the kitchen early enough to secure a portion of that precious Prime Rib for Cathy, all while being very friendly and entertaining.  The only reason the service lost a star was because of the busboys, who doled out bread and water as if driven by a random number generator. Marija waited nearly half an hour before getting her ration of bread (which was apparently limited to one piece of baguette, one small corn muffin, and one mini biscuit each).  And on one occasion, Marija, to Cathy’s left, received water and Cathy did not. We also asked for a scotch menu early in the evening, which never materialized, though the waiter did manage to procure a limited selection from the dessert menu for us.)

We ended our dinner with some wonderful dessert, one of which—the deliciously decadent Warm Scharffenberger Chocolate Soufflé with Caramel Sea Salt Ice Cream—was shared by the table. If you want to order this, make sure you do it early in your dinner because it needs 20 minutes to cook. The presentation here, too, was great: The waiter brought the souffle, a scoop of Carmel Sea Salt Ice Cream, and a small saucer of chocolate sauce. He first cracked open the souffle, poured some chocolate sauce on top of it, then scooped the ice cream on top that, and finally more chocolate sauce. Like I said, everything is about presentation here. (Even the coffee came in a shiny French press pot, with both raw and organic sugar on a sugar tray.) And although the soufflé was wonderful, everyone found it to be very, very chocolate-y and almost too rich. Even the four of us, all chocolate lovers, couldn’t quite finish it off. Heck, Ying didn’t even remember what the ice cream tasted like because of the overwhelming chocolate taste of the sauce and souffle.

Cathy enjoyed A Selection of Sorbets and Granités for her dessert. The strawberry was her favorite and the honey melted faster than the Wicked Witch of the West. There was a third flavor which Cathy is unable to remember, so we can safely say this wasn’t memorable since she doesn’t remember it and that’s what being memorable is all about.

I had the Scoop of Vanilla Ice Cream with a Peanut Butter Bar. The ice cream was great; the peanut butter bar was too peanut-y. (Yes, I know; what else was I expecting?) And, the dessert was on the house thanks to my poor experience with my order.

In fact, it’s a shame that with all the thought that went in to Epic that the one thing that should have been outstanding—the steak—was the only real disappointment, receiving lower marks than two chains: Bob’s and Morton’s. All of the Adventurers on this outing hope Epic is able to correct the problems in the kitchen so that the entire meal can be as spectacular as the appetizers and setting.

Epic Roasthouse

Looking for another impression? See what the San Francisco Chronicle had to say about Epic Roasthouse.

It is probably unfair to House of Prime Rib that it is classified in all of the guidebooks as a steakhouse. The proof that it isn’t a steakhouse is right in the name, “House of Prime Rib.” Because that is what is offered. Thin cut, thick cut, huge cut, but all prime rib. Once you accept that you are going to be eating prime rib, you can sit back, relax and enjoy the show, which includes an unwieldy serving cart with what appears to be a 75 watt bulb stuck to it on the inside.

The prime rib is cooked English style: coated in salt and slow roasted. So in addition to liking prime rib, you’d better like the taste of salt. I do, especially when accompanied by Yorkshire pudding. The other sides (spinach and corn which appear to be out of some three year old’s nightmare) are forgettable, but the salad, which is included with all dinners, is exceptionally tasty and fresh. The bread is so amazing it could impede your ability to eat the rest of your meal.

Martinis were mixed at the table by the waiter. And while the presentation is cute, the drinks were served in their shakers with ice. This way is a terrible thing to do to a decent gin (or even a vodka) martini. And because you can nurse the increasingly watery martini throughout, you may never get to the pricey wine list, a sin in itself.

Service is cheerful and the room is warm, if unbelievably noisy. So in addition to liking prime rib and salt, you’d better like yelling “What?” to your companions.

House of Prime Rib

Alfred’s is red. Very red. Red walls. Red seating. It has the feel of an old-style steakhouse. Unfortunately, the decor was considerably more appetizing than its food.

Alfred’s is priced considerably less than most steakhouses and there’s a reason for it. The steaks are of lesser quality—”primal” cuts of “Choice” Grade”. Don’t let the word “primal” fool you: it’s not the USDA grading; it indicates a large cut of beef that is later cut to the smaller portions for serving. The “Choice Grade” is the USDA grading, and is one step below the highest USDA Prime grade. Usually, you’ll find “Choice Grade” meats in your local super-store, not your fine steakhouses.

Now, if the beef itself isn’t of top-notch quality, it’s going to need some kind of spice rub to add some flavor, at least a sprinkling of salt to pull out the natural juices. Alfred’s proudly declares “There are no rubs, salts or peppers used… we prefer to serve the steak in its natural state” and the meat suffered for it: The ribeye, though tender, had little flavor, and the (huge 30-oz) porterhouse was tough. Jason liberally doused his steak with sauce, something he declares borderline sacrilegious.

Some in our party found the sides, in particular the “garlic” mashed potatoes, were likewise flat tasting (except for one, the pickled pigs feet which, ironically, was too salty). This is one case where “natural state” is not synonymous with “good”. Guys, really: a little salt never hurt.

And while the waiter was friendly and attentive, the entrees arrived while one of our party was still enjoying her appetizer, a major no-no. Fortunately, the scotch and wine lists were impressive, and the bar makes a great martini (shaken at the table, no less).

Despite the disappointing food, Alfred’s was a pleasant evening out, and, if you lower your steak expectations a tad, it’s a good choice (pun definitely intended) if you want the steakhouse feel without the pricetag.

Alfred’s Steakhouse