Our six-top eventually opened up.

Chad, our waiter, didn't arrive for a good while, and then
after our drink orders were put in, didn't return for
another good while - partially our fault, as we were having
trouble negotiating the large menu.

Here's what we ended up with.

Deloach Pinot Noir ?04 - a nice light compromise wine - some
of us get migraines from too much vin rouge, so I chose this
despite there being a couple wines on the grossly overpriced
list for $12 less that I might have liked better with steak.
It's a standard offering, cherries and berries, pleasantly
smooth, easy to quaff. More an aperitive wine than a dinner
one, but we made it serve as both. An annoyance that I find
at restaurants of this level of pretense - we all got poured
a glass, fine; but then at refill time, everyone else's
glass was topped up except mine, after which Chad gave
this crap-eating grin and asked me if I'd like to order
another bottle. No, I said, of course not. As soon as his
now extra-unwelcome presence was remedied, I remarked to the
table that he'd just lost $10 in tip. I ended up getting a
Basil Hayden's for my steak, and it worked just fine, thank
you very much.

bowdenj - shrimp cocktail, some kind of salad, a seared rare
tuna stacked on heaven knows what. The shrimp were gigantic;
I didn't pay attention to the salad; the tuna looked perfect
and made me almost wish I'd ordered it myself.

JerseyJoe+1 - some other kind of salad that was topped with
fried onions, then a smallish steak.

JerseyJoe - a small ribeye medium-rare-on-the-rare-side with
a lobster tail - this looked overcooked to me, the steak
appearing to me to be kind of medium medium.

violist - gumbo followed by a large strip steak extra rare.
The gumbo was poured into a cold plate, so the interior was
nice and hot but the edges were cold. It was a palatable
rendition especially after being doctored with a couple
shakes of Tabasco: but it was nowhere so nice as many I have
had in New Orleans for a third the price. I'd apparently put
the fear of God into the waiter, because the steak came
about at the right level of cookedness, but one surface
was cold. For the first time I thanked Ruth for heating the
plates to a gazillion degrees, so I flipped the thing
over and had an almost seared steak warm on both sides and
appropriately cool raw in the middle. Next time I'll take my
friend Hap's advice and order it cooked 1 minute per side.
The meat was good, not great, certainly not as prime as
prime used to be - very little intramuscular fat. Chad
tried to reingratiate himself by making a little joke about
whether the cow had stopped talking back to me. I said,
yeah, just barely, so he smiled, confident that he would
be getting at least half of his lost tip back. Oh, by the
way, I ordered my steak dry, as I find that a decent piece
of meat doesn't need butter. I want to say at this point
that the only Ruth's Chris I've been to that has gotten
everything absolutely right, both cooking and service, was
the one overlooking National Airport. Others have been
generally good but not top-rate; and one of the ones in
Vegas was positively horrid.

Sides. bowdenj likes sweet sides and ordered the sweet
potato casserole. I turned down the offer of some - it
looked sinfully caloric - and said that I might take a
spoonful for dessert. Sadly, that last spoonful disappeared
when I wasn't looking, whisked away by a suddenly altogether
too efficient waitstaff. JJ ordered asparagus, which was
fine. I ordered spinach, but just to see what was different
asked for it au gratin. What came was the usual creamed
stuff (which I enjoy) covered with a thick coating of cheap
yellow Cheddar. Folks, that is not what au gratin means.

Desserts: chocolate souffle was rich and dark and somewhat
undercooked; chocolate cheesecake was an obscene portion,
rich and much less chocolaty. Both of these came with a
big blob of Schlag.

We rolled out of there somewhat after ten; I could have made
the 10:30 bus if I'd hustled, but in the mistaken impression
that there was a late bus decided to socialize for a while.
bowdenj went off in his direction, and JJ hosted me into
the club at the Sheraton, where I found that the Sox and
Rays were tied at 8 after setting some kind of home run
record.

The last bus doesn't run on Saturday, so I missed my chance
to get back westward cheaply. Right at the right time for
the #8 bus, one rolled up signed "Garage." Some other guys
looking for #8 asked the driver, who informed us all that
there was no late bus. The taxi was 21.50 and took about
10 minutes.