The building draws you in from across the street: Loud Technicolor green façade, Vegas-red neon signs, the drawing of the Silver Butter Knife Steak that looks like it's been ripped from a yellowing copy of Esquire. It could be some kind of crazy relic from midtown Manhattan, but the restaurant--still a family-run business--has been in the same downtown Minneapolis spot since 1946. The steaks are legendary, but the butter-soaked garlic toast is just as habit-forming. The bar, a quiet refuge where nobody will give you any guff, glows dark and pink. Sitting inside, you'll think Eisenhower is still president.


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