Steaking Out Sacred Ground in Brooklyn
A regular sounds off on Pete Wells’ takedown of Peter Luger
I am honestly not sure I can disaggregate what I feel and what I think about this review. I appreciate that The New York Times’ Pete Wells nods to Peter Luger’s importance and permanence. That’s certainly the case for me — I’ve been to “Luger’s” for more birthdays, goodbyes, and welcome-homes than I can count over the last 40 years. I got my Peter Luger charge card on my 18th birthday. I still have it and I still use it. I’m proud of its low number — I once even got a nod for that from Terry the bartender; really, I did. I have witnesses.
Your bill came in the mail on thick bronze-colored paper. If you were tardy in paying, you got a phone call from Sylvia (or Sadie — I forget ) at “Pehtah Looguhz” who called you “dahlink” and informed you that “we haven’t got yuh check yet” (when I was 18, I always wondered if unheeded calls from Slyvia were followed up by less polite visits from guys with track suits and no necks).
I know that there is no secret number that Wells could have called to get in; it’s always been 387-7400 — I remember when there was no 718 prefix before it. I know that the best time to get someone on the phone for a reservation is around 3:45 p.m., and I remember when the Zagat guidebook’s review said that the…
