Thursday, August 2, 2012.
Segregated Assets. Chophouse.
When Tony B renewed his subscription a month ago, he asked to sit down with me to talk about a business proposition. I get very few such offers. (I don't even want to think about what that means.) But my hands are too full to do anything with them if they came.
After weeks of rescheduling we planned dinner at the Chophouse. The visit would give me the data I needed to write a detailed review of the place, which about a year ago opened in the former Cuvee. I was there early, giving time to talk with Chef Robert Bruce (formerly of Smith and Wollensky, among other places). He was happy that he's persuaded the owner--whose other restaurants are closer to Atlanta--that he should serve French bread instead of the peculiar raisin bread they seem to like in the South.
Tony is of Croatian descent and Chicago birth, giving us a lot to talk about. I am neither Croatian nor Chicagoan, but I have many friends from both cultures.
Tony wanted me to get restaurant owners interested in a complex but totally legitimate program by which they could depreciate their fixed assets more rapidly, and thereby generate cash flow. The way I understand it, the IRS--after losing a case in court--allowed owners or lessees to separate the bricks-and-mortar part of the building's cost from things like doors, windows, lighting, floors, and ceilings, if they are special in any way. Those parts of the fixed plant can be depreciated faster than bricks and foundations can.
The Chophouse's space is probably a good example. Its brick walls and substructure go back to the early 1800s, but recent occupants have made many improvements in the treatment of doors, windows, and ceiling in particular. The hard part is that all of this has to be figured out not as much by a CPA as by a professional well versed in construction technology. Tony offers that service.
It was hard for me to understand. Not because the concept was byzantine, but because the pianist-singer--who plays an amusingly wide repertoire--does so about thirty percent too loudly. (All musicians, in every venue outside the classical world, play too loud for their listeners' preferences.)
I can't bring much to Tony's endeavor. I don't talk business much with restaurant owners. I already know too much about restaurant nuts and bolts for a guy who is trying to have the perspective of a customer.
But we had a pleasant dinner. He ordered what I ordered. This happens often, and I used to try to fight it so I could see more different food. But it wasn't really necessary here. The Chophouse has a very limited menu, even by steakhouse standards. Aside from the various cuts and familiar sides, there are a couple of seafood entrees, two salads, and four starters. That's it. No duck, no lamb or pork chops, no chicken.
Started with the house salad and a dressing called Brooklyn. A little sweet, a little hot, a little thick, a little too big.
The Chophouse's distinctive habit is broiling their steaks Pittsburgh style. Done well, this is my favorite way to have my steak cooked, resulting in a very dark, almost crisp exterior but a juicy, cool interior. I am impressed that in four steaks now all of them have been just about perfect.
This one was too--and I made it hard. Pittsburgh broiling (also known as "black-and-blue") is best accomplished with a thick steak--a filet mignon, or a large sirloin strip. I had the latter last time. I would not be able to eat a whole one on my new regimen. Let's try the ten-ouncer--the lowest I'll go for a strip. Well, it was right on the money, well seasoned, charred here and there, juicy. A little bitter in the plate to satisfy that local taste.
Creamed spinach on the side. Blah. Only Antoine's, Brennan's, and Galatoire's make edible creamed spinach anymore. (Well, I do it, too, but I have the advantage of being able to do it exactly the way I like it.)
No dessert. The rain, which raged during our dinner, was gone. During that time, the entire restaurant filled with customers. Chef Robert told me that yesterday the place had done 150 covers. That's a very busy night for this smallish restaurant. When it opened, I told the owner--who repeatedly emailed me to make sure I knew what he was doing--that I didn't think it was such a great idea to open a high-end steakhouse in this neighborhood. I'm not sure, but I wish it were a French bistro instead.
Chophouse. CBD: 322 Magazine St. 504-522-7902.
