I cannot recall the first restaurant I was taken to as a child, but my best guess is that it was what was then known as a “steak house.” Chicago, city of my birth and upbringing, was then the home of the country’s largest stockyard, and so it was a very beefy city with for the most part, in those pre-cholesterol days, a beef-loving citizenry. “Miller’s Steak House,” “George Diamond’s,” “Black Angus,” “Allgauer’s” are but a few of the names of the old steak houses that stay in my memory.
A standard meal in such a restaurant might begin with a …
Something to Consider
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