Do Wolfgang Puck’s Luxury Steakhouses Make the Cut?

Steak or salad? Which one is a true luxury meal? In our ongoing series, here at Dandelion Chandelier we’ve been exploring the pressing matter of whether a modern luxury dining experience is best experienced by kicking it old-school at a steakhouse. Or by joining in the wave of vegetable-forward, vegetarian and vegan fine dining restaurants, and forgoing a large piece of protein as the centerpiece of the meal. Team Salad has fared well: Restaurant Nix in Manhattan and Restaurant Millennium in the Bay Area both proved to be up to the challenge of providing a satisfying, beautiful and enjoyable meal. We were even moved to list the best vegetarian and vegetable-forward restaurants in Manhattan so that anyone who cares to can join in the fun. Now it’s time for Team Steak to get in the game. First up? On our recent trip to Los Angeles, I found myself with both a free evening and a great steakhouse in the immediate vicinity. So I had a solo dinner at CUT by Wolfgang Puck in the Beverly Wilshire (a Four Seasons Hotel). I’d never eaten at any of the various CUT restaurants (there’s one in the new Four Seasons Wall Street in Manhattan, and four others around the globe). As an omnivore with a deep appreciation for a good steak, I was primed to be happy. But would I be transported?

Dear reader, I love this place.

The restaurant is located just off the lobby of the iconic Beverly Hills hotel on Wilshire Drive, with a street-side entrance as well as one via the hotel lobby. Even before fully entering the space, the vibe one gets is not “ye olde steakhouse” – there are whimsical arrangements of seasonal potted flowers on the walls leading to the hosts’ desk. Just beyond, it’s clear that the main dining room is not a cigar-smoke stained, mahogany-paneled man cave – it’s a stylish space with soaring ceilings, white walls, contemporary art, and an open kitchen. Rock music from the ‘60s and ‘70s plays softly overhead. And the servers are not all male – yay! I’m already intrigued and bit impressed.

I requested a quiet table since I was dining alone; I was seated in a little elevated alcove that gave me a full view of the dining room, but kept me literally above the fray. Later on, other solo diners appeared there, as well, as did a table of four who seemed to either be conducting clandestine business, or who were celebrities that I didn’t happen to recognize, or both.

I studied the décor from my perch, and found it appealing: a motif of swirling design elements softens the room, and makes it more traditionally femme. There are no tablecloths, just black napkins and placemats, with snow-white plates and serving dishes. The chairs appear to be Aeron – they’re ergonomically curved, and covered with black netting, just like office chairs. And they’re equally comfortable. There’s a sliver of skylight in the ceiling, and a curving row of windows on the wall facing the interior driveway of the hotel. As the sun sets, a lovely glow spreads over the room. It’s more romantic and far less macho than I was expecting.

The service is attentive and unfussy, and the restaurant does an extremely good job with guests dining alone (as it should, given its hotel location). My assigned server was full of fun and charm right from the start, offering me a copy of Variety to read while I get settled in. If you’re hanging out in Hollywood, what better way to get into the groove?

The menu requires some attention, as it’s pretty extensive. I was feeling flush, so I decided to go for the “Tasting of New York Sirloin,” which includes 2 ounces of Japanese Wagyu Beef from Miyazaki Prefecture, and 4 ounces each of American Wagyu from Snake River Farms and U.S.D.A. Prime sirloin, dry aged for 35 days. Ten ounces of protein seemed like a bit much, but I figured I could always reserve the right not to eat every morsel of food placed before me (that turned out to be a lot harder than I anticipated).

The wine list is equally comprehensive. I opted for a glass of 2015 Daou Cabernet Sauvignon from Paso Robles, which was described as tasting of “blueberry, spice, black cherry, dark chocolate and caramel.” What’s not to like about any of that? It turned out to be an excellent choice.

On with the meal! A tall bouquet of breadsticks graced the table, and a waiter stopped by to proffer three different kinds of bread hot from the oven: pretzel rolls, focaccia and whole wheat. Trust me on this one: go for the pretzel roll. The bread basket was quickly followed by a presentation of mini gougeres, hot from the oven. They were basically like ambrosia, and I could have happily made a meal out of them, along with my glass of wine. But there was much more to come.

The table was set with small ramekin of sea salt and three different kinds of mustard (the waiter later explained that since the owner-chef is Austrian, it’s a tradition to serve a variety of mustard alongside the meat courses). Then my waiter arrived bearing a platter with raw beef. He explained that each of the four cuts on display had varying levels of marbling: the Japanese Waygu has the most, and the bone-in filet has the least.

In short order, dinner was served – the various components were presented with a nice bit of theater by three different servers: three cuts of steak, with three sauces, plus sautéed spinach and puréed Yukon Gold potatoes. Conservatively, there was sufficient food for a party of four – and I hadn’t even opted for additions like a fried organic egg, Point Reyes Blue Cheese, or wild field mushrooms. (This is my recurring beef with steakhouses: there’s always too much food; I realize that’s an extremely high class “champagne” problem, but it’s a problem nevertheless).

Feeling a bit daunted, I set to work.

I started with the 2 ounces of Japanese Waygu. O.M.G. So good: tender, salty, with just a dash of black pepper. It’s incredibly rich, and needs no sauce. At all. I have no idea how one could consume more than a small portion of this – it would be like eating an entire stick of butter. My server assures me that some people find room for 10 ounces of this meat. Wow.

The Argentinean chimichurri sauce awakened the American Waygu, which has more texture and less buttery flavor than the Japanese Waygu. The sauce is green, and it tasted like grass and fresh pastures. In a good way. After the Japanese Waygu, this cut almost tasted too dry – but on my second pass through it, the charred crust made its presence felt, and I decided it was my second favorite of the three.

The USDA Prime sirloin steak was really tasty on its own – with the accompanying red wine bordelaise sauce, it was superb. Just for fun, I tried it with the Yuzu Kosho butter. That was really good, too. At that point I decided that trying to name a favorite cut among these three was futile – they’re all different, and all delicious. I guess that’s the point.

As the plates were being cleared, my server informed me that the chocolate soufflé dessert takes 12 minutes to prepare. Other dessert options that night included pear crumble and banana cream pie. Was I still hungry? Not really. But I figured with 12 minutes to wait, I’d be hungry again by the time the soufflé arrived. So I ordered it.

After a respectable interval, the chocolate soufflé arrived in a small ramekin. It was accompanied by small dishes of creme Anglaise, warm chocolate sauce, and hazelnut ice cream. I stared down at all of these elements, unsure of what to do next, and my server asked me if I’d like for him to assemble the dessert the way the chef recommends. By all means, I replied. He proceeded to scoop out the middle of the soufflé, deposit the ice cream in the middle of it, douse the ice cream with the chocolate sauce, and then drizzle the crème Anglais over everything. The entire process took only about 60 seconds, but it was so over-the-top indulgent that it felt like a dessert orgy the likes of which I have never seen in my life. Crazy stuff. And so good. I could only manage a few spoonfuls. But basically, at that point, I was deep in the throes of chocolate euphoria. I’m not exactly sure what went on for a few minutes after that. It’s all a bit hazy.

But wait – there’s more. After the soufflé had been cleared away, my server brought three tiny desserts on a tray: a lemon tart, a caramel with raspberry filling, and diminutive olive oil cake with a cherry inside.

I felt certain that if I ate even a small bite I would burst. So no offense, dear pastry chef. They were lovely, but I just couldn’t eat another bite.

Afterward, a friend told me that she saw Victoria and David Beckham at this CUT with their kids once for dinner. Another one reported that one of the Obama daughters was spotted here. I could see that. I hope they had the soufflé.

That night, I finished my wine and toddled off to bed, quite happy that my commute home required nothing more than getting on the hotel elevator and remembering to push the right button for my floor.

I’ve loved the Team Salad experiences, I truly have. But for me, a premium steakhouse dinner is what a luxury meal is all about.

Well played, Team Steak. The competition continues.

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