If you're going to call yourself a bona-hide steakhouse, then for the love of cows everywhere, hire a kitchen staff that understands the concept of temperature, specifically mid-rare. This barn of steer doesn't have a clue, delivering the first slab of steer so beyond well-done that it was inedible; a second chance exposed a similar abomination. To add insult to injury, the under-seasoned vegetables were the equivalent of mush, leaving the only redeeming thing on the plate a baked potato. Yee-haw.
Can you guess where I'm eating?
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