Manny’s Steakhouse - Minneapolis
Applewood Bacon Appetizer
Recently while in Minneapolis I paid a visit to Manny’s Steakhouse. I love the cozy, dark, dining accommodations offered by most steak and chophouses. Having never been, I expected it would be typical of its kind. WRONG…Manny’s has relocated to the swanky, contemporary W Hotel at The Foshay Tower. I couldn’t help but judge as I walked through the abstract theater of the hotel lobby and in to the restaurant. I thought…I hate this place.
The restaurant was brightly lit, loud and packed. We sat at the bar. There was a loudmouth idiot to my left (and my husband sat to my right). The bartender put menus down and asked what we wanted to drink. Grey Goose and soda with a lemon I replied curtly, I looked over at my husband and told him one drink and I’m out. He asked the bartender to bring me the bacon. Whatever, I thought…I do like bacon. I rolled my eyes, downed my cocktail and shook the ice cubes in the glass, made eye-contact with the bringer of the drink and said ‘I’m ready’.
Halfway through my third cocktail…the bacon arrived. At that moment I felt like Homer Simpson…I wanted to kiss my husband, the bartender, the grill man, the butcher and the bacon. I think I even cracked a smile before I stabbed one of the better than half-inch thick slabs, and brought it to my lips, burning my mouth. The grilled salty, sweet applewood flavor was orgasmic for a baconist like myself.
I floated out of Manny’s with a slight buzz and a smile on my face. I felt a satisfaction I thought only sex could give. I’ve heard chocolate and heroin can offer the brain similar to sex pleasure…I recommend the bacon app at Manny’s, I dare you not to moan.
Applewood Bacon Appetizer
Recently while in Minneapolis I paid a visit to Manny’s Steakhouse. I love the cozy, dark, dining accommodations offered by most steak and chophouses. Having never been, I expected it would be typical of its kind. WRONG…Manny’s has relocated to the swanky, contemporary W Hotel at The Foshay Tower. I couldn’t help but judge as I walked through the abstract theater of the hotel lobby and in to the restaurant. I thought…I hate this place.
The restaurant was brightly lit, loud and packed. We sat at the bar. There was a loudmouth idiot to my left (and my husband sat to my right). The bartender put menus down and asked what we wanted to drink. Grey Goose and soda with a lemon I replied curtly, I looked over at my husband and told him one drink and I’m out. He asked the bartender to bring me the bacon. Whatever, I thought…I do like bacon. I rolled my eyes, downed my cocktail and shook the ice cubes in the glass, made eye-contact with the bringer of the drink and said ‘I’m ready’.
Halfway through my third cocktail…the bacon arrived. At that moment I felt like Homer Simpson…I wanted to kiss my husband, the bartender, the grill man, the butcher and the bacon. I think I even cracked a smile before I stabbed one of the better than half-inch thick slabs, and brought it to my lips, burning my mouth. The grilled salty, sweet applewood flavor was orgasmic for a baconist like myself.
I floated out of Manny’s with a slight buzz and a smile on my face. I felt a satisfaction I thought only sex could give. I’ve heard chocolate and heroin can offer the brain similar to sex pleasure…I recommend the bacon app at Manny’s, I dare you not to moan.
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