A new steakhouse needs a little more seasoning
I”™m exhausted. Not from the heat, which is sweeping vast swathes of the country, nor ”“ remarkably ”“ from over-overeating, which I agree can certainly be an exhausting thing. No, I”™m breathless from reading “Iron Chef” David Burke”™s resumé. Restaurateur, businessman, artist, art collector; philanthropist, author, educator, beekeeper and more, this tireless titan operates some 18 restaurants along the East Coast of the United States and Saudi Arabia as part of David Burke Hospitality Management.
The latest of which is Red Horse by David Burke, an American steakhouse with Asian influences, occupying what was the site of BLT Steak in the also former Ritz-Carlton New York, Westchester ”“ now The Opus Westchester ”“ in downtown White Plains.
Burke, so his website goes on to inform, is “a rock star of the culinary world.”
Phew. That preamble over, it”™s time to put the meat in the sandwich, which is something Burke, or at least his Red Horse chef de cuisine, must likely say several times a morning, since there is quite a lot of meat in a number of sandwiches on Red Horse”™s tempting lunchtime menu.
But before the meat, letӪs talk about bread. Specifically, popovers. Because Red HorseӪs gruy̬re popovers, a Burke specialty, are a wondrous thing. They come standing up like giant mushrooms, a crisp outer crust giving way to a pillowy, soft inside. Served with two husks of jalapeno cornbread, you could feast on these breads and the accompanying sweet butter as a last supper and die happy.
“Clothesline” bacon, strips of crisp, maple-glazed bacon, meanwhile, brought to the table hanging on a miniature clothesline frame, is another Burke special, one that still draws gasps of delight from diners seeing it for the first time, or even the umpteenth.
Like any steakhouse worth its Himalayan Salt ”“ I say this advisedly ”“ oysters have a home on the menu, either “naked” in David Burke parlance with a cucumber and apple mignonette, or dressed with crabmeat and served with pickled vegetables. Shrimp comes with avocado or in spring rolls, with a tangy Thai peanut sauce.
Wedge salad ”“ that mainstay of the steakhouse, the support band before the main act ”“ makes a welcome appearance in the “Appetizers” section, as do avocado and salmon crostini and a tuna and salmon tartare. My guests and I enjoyed each over a couple of visits. Less successful were lobster dumplings, the precious lobster meat minced almost into a paste and the dumpling itself, in the shape of a drawstring pouch, doughy and undercooked above the “tie.”
That Himalayan salt: Burke holds a patent for his Himalayan Salt beef-aging process and his love affair with the mineral ”“ actually mined from the Punjab region of Pakistan ”“ is crystal clear, if you”™ll pardon the pun. Great panels of the pink stuff form the long, back wall of the red and white restaurant and there is a brick of it on each table, which acts as a stand for the salt and pepper grinders.
We had no need of any further seasoning, though, for excellent Cobb and sesame tuna salads, each one fresh and generous. Either, incidentally, would make for a satisfying and relatively inexpensive one-course lunch, but then again, so would those sandwiches I mentioned earlier. A crisp Korean fried chicken sandwich, with a punchy gochujang mayonnaise, and an open-face bison short rib sandwich, a massive flavor hit with its onions “three ways,” are both on the money. (A sushi menu and changing daily specials are also available midday.)
In the evening, salads are supplemented with more obviously elaborate starters, like lobster scrambled eggs with caviar, and octopus and chorizo kabobs ”“ always a winning combination, although for my part I have given up octopus for good after watching Craig Foster”™s 2020 Academy Award-winning documentary, “My Octopus Teacher.”
If it has taken a dozen paragraphs to get to the steaks themselves, which are surely the raison d”™Ãªtre of any steakhouse, it is only because the dishes leading up to them were so darn good. So perhaps there was a certain inevitability that our choice from the section of the menu described as “Steakhouse” was something of an anticlimax. A 20-ounce dry-aged ribeye, at a not- insignificant $74 (for one), came rare as ordered and nicely charred but was nevertheless not the tender, flavorful cut we felt the menu promised. French fries were wilting rather than crisp. Cream spinach ”“ that glorious side dish when properly done, and which should accompany any steak ”“ was ordered but forgotten, an oversight but still, and following a prompt to the server was brought too late to be enjoyed. Served in an attractive rectangular tray, resembling a large sardine can, it was drowned with melted cheese, not a component of classic creamed spinach. (The dish was later removed from the check.)
The steak, by the way, came with a branded, David Burke steak knife, which was actually a miniature cleaver, and one of a growing number of Burke-branded products for sale, including cookware, bakeware and steak sauce. Although fun to look at ”“ if mildly threatening ”“ it was a little unwieldy to use. Another slight quibble regarding silverware at Red Horse was that every time you placed your knife and fork on a round plate between mouthfuls, the utensils would slide into the middle of the plate ”“ and often the sauce.
I have other quibbles, too ”“ a crème brûlée dessert with a partly-warm caramelized lid but a fridge-cold interior; a stained coffee cup; “iced” water that was not iced and ”“ most problematic perhaps ”“ service that on a couple of occasions evaporated towards the end of the meal, so that for quite long stretches no server was present in the dining room.
That is a pity, because with its arresting interior design, including horse sculptures and prints, “Hermès”-style bridle motifs, comfortable white leather chairs and a bright aspect facing the Renaissance Square fountains, this is a very good restaurant that could be great.
And still a relative newcomer, perhaps under Burke”™s expert eye it yet will be.
For reservations, visit redhorsebydb.com.