A group of 7 old friends went to Michael Jordan's tonight. A couple of us were excited about dining in Grand Central Station, a couple of us were cynical about eating at what might turn out to be an expensive Hard Rock. I was a confirmed agnostic, armed only with the Chowhound advice to try the mashed potatoes (usually the last type of potato I order at a steakhouse).
I know this ain't Entertainment Weekly, but I would give Michael Jordan's a B.
Although all the old steakhouse staples are present, so are a few other options. I had a perfectly acceptable ceviche appetizer, and the roasted tomato soup was pungent and bracing. The Caesar salad, which I didn't sample, pleased my friend who ordered it, although it featured iceburg rather than romaine.
Steaks were very good, if not transcedent. The porterhouse was probably the favorite. My ribeye was a little gristly but had wonderful taste.
Among the sides, the mashed potatos reigned supreme. The onion rings were terrific (even though the beer batter style isn't my fave), the creamed spinach perfectly acceptable, and the hash browns awful.
The service was aggressive and a little annoying. The waiter was pushing the seafood appetizer rather aggressively and recited his list of favorites among the sides.
When we announced that we weren't going to have coffee and dessert at the restauarant, he flinched as if it were an insult (although he recovered quickly).
I can understand that for some the Grand Central location might be a turnoff, but I love it. Somehow, the designer achieved an unusual balance. There *was* ambiant noise from the station, and yet with its high ceilings and well-spaced tables, the noise level was much lower than most restaurants.
We repaired to my place for an Egg Farm gross-out. Although we quickly canned any illusions that there would be a cheese course before the ice creams, we did taste all six ice creams:
Our consensus favorite was probably the raspberry blossom honey, but very close behind was the vanilla, vanilla clabber, and ginger ice creams. The maple and pink grapefruit sorbet were not exactly inedible either.