Harold and I again struck off again for Dinkytown for our Friday meal. We know the above average players (Kafé 421, Loring Pasta Bar) the solid players (Dinkytowner, Vescio’s, Chowgirls, The Library, Burrito Loco) and we know what to avoid (Qdoba). But we had not yet tested Steak Knife.
In we walk, and were impressed with the space itself—one could easily see a legit bistro fitting in cozily. Not feeling at all like a steak (especially one that costs between five and seven bucks—what kind of meat would that be, exactly?), Harold orders their turkey dinner special, I order a gyro. Safe bets? Not exactly. The turkey was sliced off one of those processed rolls, the mashed potatoes obviously box-born. It also came with one slice of Texas toast. Not pretty, not tasty, but Harold shoveled it down like a trooper—starving, he was, after yet another night out carousing and boozing without taking in any food.
My meal? Well, the gyro was edible. Although looking at Harold’s processed turkey, I speculate there was considerable filler within that meat, which tasted lamb-ish.
Alas, the only delicious thing at Steak Knife was the young woman working the counter, a dark-haired beauty with an athletic build; the legs protruding from her jean skirt teased the imagination. Yes, she let us disappointed diners move our thoughts happily away from our plates as she wiped down tables with occasional glimpes down her shirt. Sadly, she was not on the menu. And, even more sadly, unless she seeks employment during her college years at another eatery, we won’t see her again.