Search food near me at the Brooklyn foot of the Williamsburg Bridge and one answer has been in place since 1887. Peter Luger, at 178 Broadway, is the oldest continuously operating steakhouse of its kind in New York and the most argued-about restaurant in the city. Almost every one of those arguments is about the porterhouse. That is a shame, because the parts of the menu that surround it are more interesting, less discussed, and considerably harder to get wrong.
The order most tables make here is the porterhouse and nothing else worth mentioning, which leaves the best-value part of the menu untouched. Ask Karpo how Williamsburg is running tonight and what is worth walking to nearby before or after a long dinner.
The bacon is a course, not a garnish
The thick-cut bacon is served as an appetiser, by the slice, and it is roughly a quarter of an inch thick — closer to a small pork chop than to anything you would put beside eggs. It arrives hot, rendered on the outside and still soft in the middle, and it is the single most-ordered thing in the building after the steak.
One slice per person is the correct quantity and two is a mistake. This is extremely rich food eaten immediately before extremely rich food, and the table that orders four slices between two people is going to struggle with the porterhouse forty minutes later. Order it, eat it, and stop.
It is also the clearest demonstration of what this kitchen actually does, which is buy very good meat and apply heat to it without ceremony. There is no technique on display here beyond sourcing and timing, and that is the whole philosophy of the room in one plate.
The sides are where the German half of the menu survives
Peter Luger began as a German restaurant — a tavern and billiard hall in a heavily German part of Brooklyn — and the steakhouse it became kept the accompaniments from that earlier life. The German fried potatoes are the clearest survival: sliced, fried hard, salted, and closer to a rösti fragment than to a chip.
Creamed spinach is the other institution and it is served everywhere in this genre because Luger served it first. The version here is heavier and less refined than the imitations, which is the point rather than a criticism. Between the two of them you have the traditional order, and a table of two does not need a third side.
The other thing worth knowing is that sides are ordered separately and are sized for sharing. Ordering one each is a common error that leaves half the table's food untouched, and the portions do not scale down.
The sauce, and the argument about it
Luger's own steak sauce sits on every table — sweet, sharp, tomato-based, and closer to a condiment for a sandwich than to anything a modern steakhouse would offer. Purists regard putting it on a dry-aged porterhouse as vandalism, and they have a reasonable case.
The practical resolution is that the sauce is not for the steak. It is for the bread, for the tomato and onion appetiser that also sits in the traditional order, and for whatever is left on the plate at the end. Used that way it makes sense; poured over a good piece of beef it does not.
If you are ordering the tomato and onion, ask for extra sauce. That combination — thick tomato slices, raw onion, and the house sauce — is a piece of pre-war American steakhouse dining that has almost entirely disappeared elsewhere.
The room explains the service
The dining room is deliberately plain — bare wooden tables with no cloths, plain chairs, low beams, no decoration to speak of. People arriving expecting a grand steakhouse are frequently surprised by how much it looks like a tavern, which is precisely what it was before it was anything else.
The service follows from that. Waiters here are career staff, many of them long-tenured, and the manner is direct rather than deferential. Being told what to order is a normal part of the experience and is not rudeness; it is a room where the staff have watched several decades of people order badly and have stopped pretending otherwise. Taking the advice is usually the right call.
Practicalities that catch people out
The restaurant serves a single continuous service, roughly a quarter to twelve in the morning until a quarter past nine at night, seven days a week. That is unusual and useful: there is no gap between lunch and dinner, so a mid-afternoon table is a real option and by far the quietest time in the room.
The house has run on cash for most of its long history and its payment rules are the sort of thing worth confirming when you book rather than discovering at the end of the meal. Reservations are essential for the dining room. There is also a second Peter Luger in Great Neck on Long Island, which is the escape valve nobody in Manhattan thinks of when the Brooklyn room is full.
Practical notes
Peter Luger is at 178 Broadway in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, trading since 1887, on 718.387.7400. Service runs continuously from around a quarter to twelve until a quarter past nine, every day, which makes mid-afternoon the calmest table of the week. Order one slice of thick-cut bacon per person and no more. Take the German fried potatoes and the creamed spinach, sized for the table rather than one each. Use the house steak sauce on the tomato and onion rather than on the beef. Confirm the payment rules when you book, and remember the Great Neck location exists when Brooklyn is full.
Tags: #foodnearme #peterluger #williamsburg #brooklyn #nyc #steakhouse #porterhouse #creamedspinach #nycdining #dryaged #nycrestaurants #brooklynfood #nycclassics #steak
All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
Ask Karpo first
At a restaurant famous for one dish, the rest of the menu is usually where the regulars are eating. Ask Karpo what is worth ordering beyond the obvious where you are going tonight, which hour the room is quietest, and what is open nearby once you are done.
