There’s nothing worse than heading to a good restaurant and then ordering the wrong thing. This happened to me last week. You know the drill. You order something, and it’s pretty good. Then you take a bite of something the person next to your ordered, and a giant OH FUCK sign flashes in your head. Then you spend the rest of the meal in a deep state of regret, hoping the person next to you doesn’t finish their dish so you can pounce on it like a homeless person on half a drumstick.
Well, that isn’t happening in this draft. That’s right: it’s the restaurant where you’re eating your last meal. You’re going to die. How? Doesn’t matter. Death penalty. Cancer. Really bad hangnail. Whatever it is, you ain’t living much longer, so here’s your last chance to enjoy some food and libations. And the tab is on God, so you can order as much as you please, and stay as long as you please.
The rules? Pick a restaurant. It must still currently exist. After you pay the tab, you drop dead on the spot. So no, “I’ll pick any restaurant in Vegas and then go bang a hooker afterwards!” And no picking restaurants located in strip clubs and shit. Shut the fuck up and concentrate on the food. If you pick a chain restaurant, and they can range from McDonald’s to Nobu, all of its locations are off the board. Once you pick a joint, you must wait 10 picks until you choose another.
My pick is Murray’s Steakhouse in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Murray’s may not be the world’s greatest restaurant. In fact, I’m quite sure it is not. Some in town even prefer Manny’s for steaks. I’m picking this one straight for sentimental reasons. I ate here when I was 14. Ordered the silver butter knife porterhouse. And you know what? You really could cut it with a butter knife. Fucking. Nice. Joey Browner sat three tables over from us. Joey Browner was a black belt in karate and my favorite Viking of all time. I bet he too has a wallet that says Bad Motherfucker. Did I have a good meal? I did.