
Peter Luger Steak House — opened in 1887 and, thankfully, still operating with very little interest in modern restaurant culture. The menu has barely changed because it doesn’t need to. You go for the steak, the thick-cut bacon, the martinis, and the particular pleasure of being treated with mild indifference by career waiters who know you’ll be back anyway. The room feels frozen in time in the best possible way—wood-panelled, loud, and somehow every meal there still feels a bit like a New York rite of passage.
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