About Peter Luger
There is no restaurant in New York City more resistant to fashion than Peter Luger. It opened in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in 1887 as a billiard hall and cafe, became a steakhouse under Peter Luger himself, and was purchased in 1950 by Sol Forman, a customer who loved the beef so much he bought the establishment. The Forman family still runs it today, with the same ferocious commitment to a single idea: the best dry-aged porterhouse money can buy.
The dining rooms occupy a converted saloon — burnished oak wainscoting, exposed wooden beams, brass chandeliers, and beer-hall tables worn smooth by a century of elbows. No tablecloths. No music. The aesthetic has not changed since Eisenhower. And that intransigence is precisely the point. Peter Luger does not need to impress you with decor. The steak arrives on a sizzling copper tray in its own butter, carved at the table into thick slabs, each one almost obscenely perfect: the exterior black and crusted, the interior a deep, yielding pink that holds its heat. The side dishes — German potatoes, creamed spinach, thick-cut bacon as a starter — are not afterthoughts. They are as good as the best in the city.
The rules here are famous: cash or check only at the Brooklyn location, no reservations on OpenTable, reservations by phone or through their own system. The service is curt, efficient, and oddly affectionate once you've been a few times. First-timers interpret the gruffness as rudeness. Regulars call it honesty. Either way, the waiter who says "Steak for two?" and disappears is doing you a service — you came for one thing and he knows it.
A Michelin Bib Gourmand for years, Peter Luger holds a place on the New York Times top 100 restaurants list that it has not left for decades. In a city of infinite novelty, it remains the most visited steakhouse in the world. That is a distinction no amount of clever cooking can manufacture.
