The Prime Rib

Massimo loves meat. Not only is he a chef, a population of folks who tend to gravitate towards carnivorism, but he's also from Tuscany, home of the Fiorentina steak, and, of course, he's a dude. He broke me of my own staunch vegetarianism over the course of the last ten years together, but steakhouses still aren't my favorite places to dine. I still can't quite bring myself to actually order a steak or other meat dish. I tend to order the fish option and who wants to order fish in a steakhouse. Only chicks do that.

The other night, with both of us in our comfy sweats and flipping back and forth between Man vs. Food (he finished a gigantic chiliburger, fries and milkshake to win an electric guitar) and Iron Chef (the secret ingredient was goat cheese) Massimo announced that we were to dine at that old warhorse of a Washington institution, The Prime Rib.

The Prime Rib, besides being known for its signature dish, had a reputation for being very old school, to the point that they were the only DC restaurant that still required a jacket and tie. But no, Massimo insisted, he had heard even they had finally dropped their dress code so he was going to miss out on one of very few opportunities he has to actually dress up.

Instead, we arrive in a taxi to the restaurant's K Street entrance and as soon as we open the door, the maitre'd grabbed Massimo gently and pulled him back into the restaurant foyer to pull out and dress him in a Navy blue oversize blazer with gold buttons.

As soon as we sat down, sat by side in a black pleather corner booth, I felt instantly transported to Congressional County Club, circa 1987, and that was a very good thing. An unseen piano player plucked out some tunes - Billy Joel, Elton John maybe?

As is our usually M.O. at a steakhouse, we split some appetizers. Clams Casino - can you believe some places still make them? - served sizzling on a bed of rock salt and the obligatory Caesar Salad. Then, as usual, Massimo ordered a delicious steak - a prime rib - and I ordered fish which I couldn't even touch because I couldn't stop staring as the tuxedo-clad waiter doused his cut of meat in au jus. I don't know if you've ever had prime rib but it is the fattiest, richest, light and fluffy cut of meat there is. Drown in aus jus and we're talking heaven.

In the taxi, in the rain, on the way home, I called my Dad. He used to accompany us to the buffet line at Congressional Country Club, where I first tasted prime rib.

"Dad? You'll never guess what we just ate."