Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Amorsel of meat and a drop of alcohol—these, Nepalese tradition has it, are the first food and drink given to a newborn. So we figured, why not invite someone from Nepal to join us at a chophouse with an imposing reputation? By the end of the evening, we felt that, given his rhapsodic description of the country’s fare, 801 Chophouse might consider adding yak-cheese wedges to its menu. Aside from that, there isn’t much missing from a meal here—the steakhouse sure isn’t short on protein.
Slipping into the address once occupied by Araka late last year, 801 Chophouse has finessed it into an entirely new environment. The space soars, both sleek and sophisticated. An impressive oval bar is stylish and inviting. The upscale restaurant is brighter than the typical cow cathedral; there’s less testosterone in evidence, save for a lavish presentation of raw meat that’s displayed on a laden platter. There are several rooms for private dining, lined with wine racks. Massive portraits depicting the evolution of the bull, as imagined by Pablo Picasso, and glossy bovine pinups are framed at eye level, including a great one of bull bottoms near the restroom.
Word was, the place has become a watering hole for the Clayton mingle-istas. There were a few when we visited, one perched at the bar with a laptop. (Hey, what goes better with Excel spreadsheets than a steak dinner?)
The clientele, however, strikes a balance between expense-account meals and patrons who’ve come for a special night. You don’t need a tie or a skirt, but leave the T-shirt at home.
Is the meat what one would expect in such a place? Yep. It’s obvious when the server brings around a tray for inspection. Selections range from a petite 8-ounce filet mignon to a 24-ounce porterhouse, just in case most of Liechtenstein drops by for a bite. The light rose of the raw Delmonico and the delicate pale of a veal chop, the shade of a Stargazer lily, both speak of the beef’s regal pedigree.
More than half a dozen sauces and toppings are offered to adorn the meat. A bath of bone-marrow butter, a béarnaise sauce, and a preparation au poivre with cognac cream all tempt, but they distract from the quality of the beef here. We did not regret ordering ours undecorated.
The crust of a 12-ounce New York strip is faintly briny, just short of charred, to bring out the luscious flavor of the fat surrounding it. This is a quality steak—juicy, seared, and tender, though with enough muscle to give it a pleasing firmness. The roasty, smoky flavor is in full blossom with every bite.
Our Nepalese guest tucked into 12 ounces of a filet, offering us bites midway. The meat was far less fat-spackled than the strip, but buttery and almost sweet. A filet mignon is the most difficult cut to cook—the comparative leanness dries it quickly. The presentation at 801 Chophouse, however, is very fine.
Of course, there’s always the guy who visits a steak place and wants something nonsteakish. The flesh of a roast chicken is stupendously moist, though the skin on ours lacked the crispy brown of a well-cooked bird. The steakhouse also offers some sumptuous seafood dishes, including grilled tuna and pan-seared salmon. We couldn’t pass up a pot-au-feu that perched thick fillets of seared Chilean sea bass atop potatoes, turnips, and knobs of cipollini onions, swimming in a winey sauce more like a delicious soup and smacked with fresh thyme.
Let’s face it: Steakhouse sides are to the steak what a Volvo wagon is to a Lamborghini—sure, the former will get you down the road, but most people fixate on the latter. But that’s not the case at 801 Chophouse. Served in cast-iron skillets, most of the sides are more than sufficient in size for sharing. All that we tried are worthwhile. The Brussels sprouts are pan-roasted and tossed with English walnuts. Macaroni and cheese, chunky with lobster and slathered in Mornay sauce, is extravagant. A 1-pound baked potato is daunting. Thin scallops of potato, baked with a rich blend of Gruyère and salty Parmesan, are more reasonable.
Split a salad—specifically, the signature 801 Chophouse salad, a delightful mélange of lettuces, shaved red onion, and tomato tossed with braised pork belly and crumbles of blue cheese, then topped with a poached egg. It’s a full meal, as is a fragrant wedge of lettuce decorated with the same blue cheese and lardons of apple-wood smoked bacon.
We almost passed on dessert—almost. A crumbly-crust apple cobbler is more like a tart, bright with cinnamon and delectably sweet. Beignets are Jackson Square–worthy. The hot rectangles of fried dough are served under a snowfall of powdered sugar, with hot chocolate sauce and espresso crème anglaise for dipping.
Inexplicably, no wine list appeared at our table. (Curious, considering the chain has won a Wine Spectator Best of Award of Excellence for its offerings.) When we asked for one, we received a single page of wines by the glass. Peeking at the full list on the way out, we saw it’s full of cabernets and Burgundies. Wine prices are consistent with the food, veering toward the dear. We noticed bottles, though, on nearly every table.
Service never descends to fawning. It’s well-paced and refreshingly professional. Plan to make an evening of it; you won’t be rushed. The atmosphere, ambience, and quality of the steaks and sides are all first-rate.
Now if they’d just think about that yak cheese.
The Bottom Line: Top-tier steaks and seafood are served in a lavish, modern setting.
137 Carondelet
Clayton
314-875-9900
Average Main Course: $45
Reservations: You’ll need them.
Acoustics: It’s quiet enough to eavesdrop on some questionable stock advice being exchanged at the next table.
Chef: Christopher Dennis
