As the incessent moblogging makes clear, we’re not in Illinois at the moment. In fact, we’re on a 4-day weekend trip to visit some of our favorite places and meet up with my sisters for one last little item on our “To Do” list concerning Mom and her final wishes.

But more on that later. Today’s topic is urgent: a restaurant review that includes a dramatic bailout maneuver.

My husband David and I took the scenic route to Steamboat today – we were in Boulder for a couple of nights doing the sentimental journey thang, and then in a fateful decision noodled around through Rocky Mountain National Park instead of taking a more direct southern route. It was pretty, but we hit road construction – but then, we probably would have hit road construction if we’d taken the “fast” route, too.

We got into town around 430pm and found that the condo gods had put my sisters and brother-in-law (relax now, it’s a 2-bedroom) in the unit directly above ours. Which made meeting up really convenient – I had given Timmy the tip about where we’re staying (The Ranch at Steamboat, via Mountain Resorts) and a very, very nice place it is. They’ve got a 3rd night free deal during the month of June, and it’s very comfortable and homey in the condos, with a pool and hot tubs and a great view down the Yampa Valley.

Anyway, we discussed where to have dinner, and we wanted steak. There were 2 “western steakhouse” type places downtown, the 8th Street Steakhouse (“Best Steaks In Town” ) or the Old West Steakhouse. The ad for the first place, I read aloud: “Grill your own steaks on our lava rock grill.” That sounded fun in theory, but also left unspoken was the assumption that we also had the option of NOT grilling our own steaks if we didn’t feel like it. The other place had an agressively Western theme as you might imagine, and thank GOD I remembered the address correctly.

One of my sisters actually called and made reservations at the 8th Street Steakhouse, whose website blurb reads:

This downtown Steamboat tradition is known for serving the finest hand-crafted steaks and seafood in a magnificent western ambience. A great family dining experience touches every detail, from the authentic saddle seats for kids to the free s’mores desserts. Cook one of our prime grade strips, bacon-wrapped filets, juicy ribeyes, or kobe strips over our 20-foot lava rock grill; or sit back as we perfect our baby-back ribs, slow-roasted prime rib, Alaskan King crab legs, or Australian lobster tails. Start your night off with our award-winning stuffed mushrooms, accompany your 16oz prime NY strip with our fresh steamed asparagus or moist twice baked potato, and finish it off with one of our homemade desserts.

Okay, first of all, I was not aware that “magnificent” was synonimous with “dated, worn, and slightly tacky.” We should have known when we unrolled our napkins to find really cheap steak knives, but oh, well. The waiter told us that if we wanted steak, they had the best in town, but we’d have to go downstairs (we were seated upstairs), choose our steaks from the “butcher shop” meat case, and then walk it across the dining room to the lava rock grill in the front corner of the restaurant.

When we saw the prices next to the different cuts of meat, that’s when we all snapped out of the “go along with the adventure” mood – we were shocked that we were being asked to pay 3 or 4 times the grocery store price for a piece of meat that we’d still have to cook ourselves. Personally, I was concerned that I’d pay a lot of money for a ruined steak, because I wasn’t too confident of my ability to cook the dang steak without turning it into a piece of half-burned hash. Something about seeing the cuts of meat under glass made the disparity in price between a real butcher shop’s wares and the restaurant’s stuff a little too galling. And then we found that the “side” dishes were also overpriced, and ala carte.

I had found the ad for the place and felt irritated that I’d just assumed that we’d be able to order our steaks in the normal way, too. One of my sisters had called for the reservation, but we’d all sort of decided on 8th Street rather than the other restaurant, Old West Steakhouse, I’m not sure why.

So we bailed, but not before paying for our salads and drinks – we had separate checks, but the total for David and me was $21.00 and change; we had soft drinks and a serving of salad for that price.

Off we went down Lincoln Ave., the main drag. My sisters spent part of their childhoods in Steamboat, and I visited a lot here with Mom when we’d have to come in and help my aunt and my disabled cousin now and then. So the change in Steamboat is pretty marked, but some things are the same. F. M. Light and Sons, the cowboy outitters’ store, was still there. We walked down to 11th and Lincoln and there was the Old West building, with the Old West Steakhouse restaurant up on the side street.  I was fervently thankful that I’d remembered the address from the restaurant guide.

That turned out to be a good meal with good service, and we were happy to pay the going rate – and some of us ordered wine on top of it. It was a friendly place, with seating upstairs and a little bar.  In addition, they had a set of comfortable old leather couches with a coffee table that you could sit at and eat appetizers, or even your entire meal – the coffee table had one of those lids that lifts up and becomes a dining surface while you’re sitting there relaxing. And in the other room, they had these funky whiskey barrels that had been converted into tables for two… stacked up 2 high, so that the upper tables were reached by a short ladder. Fun place. And of course, by the time we left, the entire staff knew the story of how we’d walked out of the other restaurant, so you wouldn’t believe how often somebody came by and checked on us to see if we needed anything.

All in all, a lesson learned – if a restaurant ad says it’s fun to cook your own food, don’t assume that you’ve got no other choice. Actually, we could have ordered cooked entrees at 8th Street, but they were all overpriced, too. Some people might like the concept of cooking their own steaks, but we sure didn’t.  At least, not without a beach and a sunset to go with it.