Best. Steak. Ever.

So, this weekend I had to go to Seattle to celebrate the impending nuptials of my friend Biscuit.

Biscuit's wedding isn't actually until August. However, he's currently residing in D.C., where he works on some congressional committee as a pee-on for The Man, so chances to go out to dinner with college friends living in the northwest are few and far between for him.

It just so happened he got flown to Seattle for a "fact-finding mission" (aka "boondoggle" by a local business concern that needed to display facts for congress to find, or something. As such, he was conveniently close in order to provide an excuse to go out and spend (way) too much money on drinks, cigars, and food.

Biscuit's requests were simple. He wanted to go somewhere with steak. He wanted to smoke a stogie before the night ended. And he wanted to get, and keep, a buzz going all night.

I arrived in Seattle around 2:30 on Saturday afternoon to find Biscuit at his hotel's bar with a chick we knew in college. She was drinking an Emerald Drop (think a lemon drop with Midori instead). He was nursing a 7 & 7. I quickly joined in with a G&T.

We sat there for the next 3 hours, catching up, drinking drinks (a total of 2 G&T's for me, three 7 & 7's for Biscuit, and Ms. T switched from the Emerald to the Rose Drop, thereby having every fruity chick drink you can have with "drop" in the title that had no lemon).

We (Biscuit and I) were really just killing time until the real fun began. And once our friend Chachi showed up, we left the hotel so that the real fun would know it was time to start.

We hopped into a cab and headed north, to Belltown, to try what many of us had heard was the best steakshop in the region. When the cabby dropped us off, we stared at our destination, El Gaucho.

Now, I've heard great things about El Gaucho. I've heard that they put my (previous) favorite steak place, Ruth's Chris, to shame. I've heard they are wicked expensive. I've heard the experience (beyond just the food) is heavenly.

Knowing before-hand that I was going to this place, and that I was on a fixed budget (indeed, looking at my account today, I over-did it despite mostly sticking to my planned budget), I pulled the menu up on-line and started planning my meal.

I was pleasantly surprised to find some not-so-spendy options on the menu, although the most appealing options were going to set me back a bit. So, I planned to have a New York Strip and some spinach and call it good at that. Oh, and a couple of beers, too.

While talking to Ms. T at the bar, she highly recommended the baseball cut, and also said that the Wicked Shrimp was a must-eat. I talked Chachi into going in halfsies on some Wicked Shrimp, thereby allowing myself that, a Caesar, and a baseball cut (and still fitting into the budget), and was pretty pleased with myself. Two $5 beers, and I figured to come out relatively unscathed.

I didn't count on two things. First, we had a struggling law student with us, and having been through that, there was no way that I (or any of the others, at the table, for that matter) could really let him suffer too much when the bill came. Second, my friend Kain ordered some wine, then he and Mr. M ordered some dessert port, and then we got the bill, and somehow we decided to split it evenly. My budget got sh*t-canned right quick. But I didn't flinch. It was all for a good cause.

Afterwards, we went to the cigar bar to smoke stogies and hang loose. I'd brought two cigars, both pre-embargo Cuban leaves, with me from Portland (where I purchased said tobbacco at Rich's), for Biscuit and myself, and Kain ordered himself one as well. Chachi, it turns out, had recently converted to Mormonism after getting hitched, so he abstained from all of our debauchery as we assaulted our innards.

Figuring budgeting was a lost cause, I ordered a Jack and Coke and puffed away.

After about an hour, we all got bored and decided to head out. A pleasant surprise occurred when Mr. M covered my drink, as I'd run out of cash at the dinner table. I'm grateful for generous friends.

We went back to the bar at Biscuit's hotel, where I drank coffee (had to drive to Kain's house in Woodinville when all was said and done, and didn't want to be unsafe) and water and we sat for about an hour, getting gradually more quiet and more tired, until finally it was time to throw in the towel.

And away I went, to spend the night at Kain's, where I was woken up at 9am by his cute 4-year old daughter, who was looking around for her mom and came to bother me as she didn't feel right waking her dad up. Which is fine, my alarm went off 5 minutes later, so between her visit and my waking up, I just sat there silently giggling at the funny conversation we'd just had.

A thorough scrub-down in the shower, and exchange of text message good-mornings with The Missus, and downstairs to partake of Kain's home-made Huckleberry Pancakes, with berries right off of his bush. Very good.

A good end, in fact, to a great culinary weekend.

What can I say for El Gaucho, having now experienced it? Simple. Best steak ever. Even the cheap cut left me both gorged and yet wanting.

I've heard the Portland El Gaucho is less consistent. I don't care. I have to go back, sooner rather than later, to enjoy the fine goodness that is El Gaucho. Ruth's Chris, I hardly knew ye.

Catch ya later.