Flames dance in the front window at Columbine Steak House, backlighting silhouetted customers who wait in line for no-frills steaks and burgers. From the street, it has all the appearance of a primitive fire dance, one that's been happening every night since 1961, when the Columbine first lit up its grill on Federal Boulevard. And even after all these years, the spartan dining room and divey adjoining lounge are packed nightly with carnivores cutting into enormous T-bones, juicy New York strips and bargain-priced filets. Pay for a steak and you also get Texas toast, a baked potato buried in butter and sour cream and an unadorned bowl of iceberg — but for a couple bucks more, you can surf-and-turf it with breaded shrimp sold in singles. A seat at the bar is a workingman's dream: a fat steak and a mug of beer in front of the big game, with change left over from a twenty.
Readers' choice: New Saigon