When my friend first suggested dinner at an upscale steakhouse downtown, I felt that immediate flutter of hesitation that comes when excitement collides with reality.
The restaurant had a reputation that preceded it — glowing reviews, dim candlelit ambiance, servers who described cuts of beef the way sommeliers describe rare wines, and prices that could quietly destabilize a carefully planned monthly budget. I had glanced at the menu online beforehand, and the numbers were impossible to ignore. Sixty dollars for a basic steak. Sides edging toward twenty. Specialty cocktails pushing past fifteen. By the time tax and tip were added, the total could easily reach two hundred dollars per person.
