Ruth's Chris Steak House

Sometimes you just want great service. yes, the food is fine, and yes the menu is pricey....but ya know, sometimes, you just want to be made to feel special, like the crew and waitstaff at Ruth,s Chris do. The steaks are very good, and the service is top notch.

It's great to get out forna special nite every so often…

DON'T WASTE YOUR MONEY. I for one was not impressed. On a Tuesday night, it took forever to get seated, and a even longer time to get the attention of our waitress. She had attitude written all over her, and my tip reflected that. The steaks were equal to what you get in a Longhorn, just marked up so you pay for the name. WILL NEVER GO BACK.…

A Swing and a Miss. For a first meal, after six months eating lowest-bidder contract meals in a third world country, my wife and I thought it would be nice to eat in one of Baltimore's award-winning steak restaurants. We picked Ruth's Chris after reading many reviews in local papers, seeing the awards posted in their window, and hearing positive word of mouth. We went on a Friday night around 8 o'clock, without making a reservation, and were seated immediately. There were only two other tables occupied when we arrived, which probably wasn't a good omen. The wine list was fantastic- varied and long- we ordered a bottle of Argentine Malbec, quickly brought out by the waiter. As we ordered our steaks (wife- petite filet, me-porterhouse), the waiter warned us the serving plates would be approximately 500 degrees...ok, we won't touch the plates. While sipping wine and eating the so-so pre-game bread, we noticed the music. Apparently, the composer of the Sesame Street theme song was a friend of either Ruth or Chris, because the happy slap-bass and piano tunes were copiously intermingled with emo rock (Creed, Evanescence), weepy new age, and 90's hair band ballads. It was also difficult to talk over the volume of "Every Rose Has It's Thorns." After a good 25 minutes, the steaks arrived on their lava beds. Good thing I wore a white shirt. Within seconds, I looked like I just finished filming an episode of CSI- Abattoir after the juices from my well-done (I ordered med-rare) porterhouse sizzle-popped off the plate. The mis-cooked steak was average, the manager offered a new steak, but I had nearly finished, and wasn't interested in waiting on another greaseworks show while being loudly serenaded by Michael MacDonald any longer than necessary. My wife had desert, which was nothing more than a run of the mill sundae. Nothing creative like "olive oil gellato with fennel brittle and lemon curd" you could get in other large cities with less of a sense of entitlement. Summarily, Ruth's Chris had good wine, fair steak, evil plates, and the atmosphere of my 1992 junior prom.…