Valentine's Dud

Rather than facing the Valentine's Day dinner crowds or having to reject a 10 p.m. reservation, we decided to celebrate last night (Friday.)  Reservations, of course, but at least we had a much better chance of eating dinner the same day we phoned it in. 

Now where?  I suggested Chez Melange, an old favorite of mine and we hadn't been there in ages.  But the morning's paper carried a story on how both co-owners had had search warrants served on their houses the night before for tax fraud.  One of them was so shocked that he had a minor, thank God, heart attack in his own front doorway.  So much for Chez.  The staff would be too upset to give their all to the kitchen. 

Dominique's Kitchen?  Nah, wasn't in the mood for escargots.  Then - inspiration!  The Proud Bird!  We'd eaten some good stuff there.

The Proud Bird is situated very near the end of the LAX south runway.  At night it is particularly dramatic to see incoming plane lights get bigger and bigger and then - whoosh!  Side view and gone.  Parked all around the lawns are WW2 fighter planes.  The rooms are paneled in a warm-looking wood with several hundred framed photos of famous pilots and planes. 

A cute gimmick - there are head sets to listen to the tower giving instructions.  They are ancient, made of brown and cream Bak-lite.  Our set didn't work and I doubt that any of the others in the room did either. 

We ordered drinks and a shrimp cocktail to share.  He ordered a filet mignon ($35) which came with garlic mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables (carrots and green beans.  I went for something called a Tuskegee rib eye which is served with béarnaise sauce, French fries and the vegetables ($30.)

When it arrived, the steak was draped over the French fries, pushed back against the vegetables.  An interesting tableau, if somewhat impractical.  The steak did keep the fries warm, but it leaked pepper sauce down the steak and onto the plate in a little lake. 

If the kitchen's goal was to present a steak as tough as the Tuskegee airmen had been, they succeeded admirably.  It was virtually inedible to a picky person (me) and despite whittling optimistically at various parts of it, seeking a bite that wasn't either fat or gristle or both, I failed.  I turned to dipping fries in the little cup of béarnaise sauce, but since it had all of the deep, toothsome flavor of mayonnaise, abandoned that project and resignedly turned back to my Caesar salad which was heavily over-dressed.  There is a reason I rarely order steak when we're out and I was forcibly reminded of it last night.