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Mastro's Steakhouse

2/13/2014

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Apparently, I am an exemplary employee because I was given the ‘Q2 –Team MVP’ award (thank you, thank you, hold your applause) at work. In addition to a diamond-shaped plaque with my name engraved on it, I was given a $200 gift card to Mastro’s Steakhouse. I love an expensive, bloody steak, so I was pleased with this reward. Naturally, my fancy coworkers throw out all sorts of recommendations for my visit – “THE BUTTER CAKE! TRY THE BUTTER CAKE!!!”

After holding on to this gift card for about six months, Chad and I finally commit to a date and make a reservation. I’m a modest kind of girl and Beverly Hills is a part of town I venture to on very few occasions, so even $200 of free steak required some extra convincing.


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We gussie-up and call a cab to drop us off at the Regent Beverly Wilshire for a cocktail before dinner. Yes, the hotel from ‘Pretty Woman’ and yes, everyone who goes there talks about how it’s the hotel from ‘Pretty Woman’. Personally, I don’t get all wet visiting shooting locations; I’m more excited about Vivian having a Ratt poster on her bedroom wall. \m/

After the cocktail, we make our way over to Mastro’s. The first thing I notice when we step inside is how tiny the bar is. Maybe there are bars on the other floors of the restaurant because I can’t imagine four bar stools accommodating everyone, especially because there is nowhere else to sit when you’re waiting to be escorted to your table. I order the “Lemon Ginger Smash”…it tastes like Irish Spring and is so enormous that it ends up being the only cocktail I order.

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It’s really hot and dark inside, but the mix of soothing, contemporary rock music calms my nerves. We order a cornicopia of food, with the intention of using the entire gift card: caprese salad, chopped salad, bone marrow, mac 'n' cheese, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, two giant steaks, and, of course, the butter cake (yeah, we had a lot of leftovers). The food is good, but I’m still having a hard time digesting the fact that we spent $60+ on steaks. I was also surprised by the number of children playing on iPads in the restaurant. Ohhh, rich people. 

The highly-acclaimed butter cake reminded me of a crustier, oilier version of a boxed yellow cake. It's not that bomb, don't order it.

The whole way home, we scratch our heads wondering why people dish out that much money for food. Mastros...expensive, and then you poop it out.

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