Pietro’s

Many decades ago, the great Ruth Reichl declared the strip steak at this pre–Mad Men–era midtown establishment, which opened on what used to be called “Steak Row” way back in 1932, to be “the best steak I’ve ever tasted.” Those days days of critical glory are now long gone, however, and last time we dropped into the old curtained dining room on East 45th Street, the rest of the traditional beef chop and past menu seemed to have mostly have gone to seed, too. But what’s left at this old midtown institution is what’s always been there — the long wood bar with the chatty barkeep pouring stiff martinis for the salarymen in their dark suits, the waiters with familiar names like “Louie” and “Joe” finishing every dish with the ritual twist of the great pepper shaker, the faded photos of old regulars on the walls. What’s left, in other words, is the essence of a bygone era, which is arguably rarer and more precious than a platter of pasta and good cut of steak, which you can find anywhere around town these days.