801 Chophouse is the one all others use as a measure.
Prime rib has been Chicago Speakeasy’s specialty since it opened.
DZÔ brings the fire tableside with banchan.
THE STATE OF STEAK
Iowa’s steakhouses are touchstones to the farms and small towns from which many Des Moines area families moved.
By Jim Duncan
The scent of freshly cut meat searing over open flames is primal — one that encouraged our progenitors to straighten their spines, walk on just two legs, fashion spears and invent fire.
During the second half of the 19th century, beefsteak became an international obsession and a status food. It transformed the American range into the world’s largest feed lot. Between the Civil War and 1880, Midwest cattle populations increased 30 times over. Because Iowa’s fertile soil grew the most grain, the state’s fatted cows produced the gold standard of that new food economy at a time when food drove all economies.
For a century, the status of Iowa beef extended to New York City steakhouses and beyond. In 1959, Des Moines businessman Harry Bookey, then 11, told Russian Premiere Nikita Khrushchev that the U.S.S.R. might have an edge in satellite technology, but our beef was superior. Though a staunch Russian chauvinist, Khrushchev conceded the point.
When Khrushchev visited Des Moines, Iowa beef represented the culmination of one of the great romances in the histories of both agriculture and human migration. After Europeans got word of Iowa’s black soil, immigrants flocked across oceans, mountains, forests and the hellfire of the Great Plains to realize the American dream of owning land from which they could make a good life.
By the end of the 19th century, they made Iowa a rich state. That wealth was sustainable and a source of pride. Fields produced corn in such abundance that farmers fed it to horses and cattle. Muscle meat from those cornfed cows became the final link in the great 19th- and 20th-century food chain that stretched from Iowa to the dining rooms of the best-fed people in world history.
For the next 100 years, Iowa steakhouses conjured a collective longing for halcyon days when corn was used for the sustenance of superior livestock, not to fuel cars, sweeten soft drinks or to use as toothpaste filler. Our steakhouses are touchstones to the farms and small towns from which many of Des Moines area families moved. Eighty percent of Iowa counties peaked in population more than 110 years ago while the Des Moines area grew continuously.
Steakhouses used to cover the state. In smaller towns, they often became surrogate country clubs — places for people to celebrate special occasions of life. Towns as small as Doon had steakhouses that drew diners from afar. In Hawarden, a WWI vet built a steakhouse by dragging stones uphill from the Big Sioux River and commissioning a Chicago artist to paint a mural of the barmaid who had charmed him in France.
The steakhouses of the mid 1900s exuded leather, oak and brass testosterone. Their smoke signals entreated us to, in Christina Rossetti’s words, “Sit down and feast with us, be a welcome guest with us.”
Sadly, much of that is gone. The last time I tried to visit Hawarden, my photographer phoned before I got there. The new steakhouse owner had threatened him with a loaded gun. Police advised us to stay away. Doon still has a steakhouse, but Hawarden’s grand dame, and most smalltown steakhouses, are now wind-grieved ghosts.
As recently as 1970, 70% of Iowa farmers raised cattle. Iowa led the nation in beef production between World War II and 1980, peaking in 1969 at 7 million. Big changes came in the 1980s as fossil fuels became cheaper and Iowa farm land more expensive. Today, less than one-fourth of Iowa farmers raise cattle. Our feedlot population sets a post-World War II low almost every year.
The cattle moved west to cheaper land while Iowa’s old grazing fields were plowed over for row crop farming. Most of Iowa’s cattle feeders moved to urban and suburban centers. Even the nickname “Cattlefeeders” has been scrapped by high school sports teams. We are the No. 9 cattle state now.
Hogs are Iowa’s new brand, and it’s not a pretty story. You can cross the length or width of Iowa now without ever seeing a pig. Some 23 million of them are hidden mostly in confinements. There are no pork chop houses, except at the Iowa State Fair. Big, non-Iowa restaurant chains have created an ersatz steakhouse culture that claims to be various kinds of Texan, Gaucho, Greek or Aussie.
The real deal survived in Montour with Rube’s, in Anita at the Redwood, at Archie’s Waeside in Le Mars and Kalmes’ in St. Donatus, at Moe Brady’s in Davenport and Bogie’s in Albia, at J Bruner in Clarinda and Fireside in Anthon. As the center of the beef universe moved west, the woebegone aura of our steakhouses grew like nostalgia at a high school reunion.
Then, in the COVID-ravaged ruins of steakhouse culture, a revival emerged more glorious than ever. The Jordan Creek neighborhood alone suddenly boasts four high-end, all prime and aged beef steakhouses. 801 Chophouse branched out from its downtown origin and is about to open its eighth store, in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia.
Here is the state of our steakhouse art.
Experiential
Experiential dining is a new, real thing. Stock market analysts specialize in it. It manifests in steakhouses that pair dining with self-involvement. Rube’s emerged from a tavern in Montour, population 250, in 1973 when Glen Rubenbauer went all-in on offering food with booze. He brought outdoor grilling inside and sold steaks for guests to cook themselves.
Rube’s Montour store now occupies an entire square block, virtually all of downtown Montour. The steakhouse raises its own beef and has a large mail-order business. A second restaurant opened in Waukee 25 years ago. The legend of Rube’s was such that New York Times, Boston Globe and Gourmet magazine all visited Montour.
Iowa Beef Steakhouse opened in 1982 after Pier owner Henry Schneider visited Rube’s and saw a future inspired by Iowa rather than his native Eastern Shore. Today, it is a friendly, more economical alternative to Rube’s, owned and operated by Schneider’s former bartender and manager.
Range Grill & Golf does the grilling while customers play a round of golf, simulated on the world’s greatest golf courses. The steaks are top notch, too, including wagyu, aged prime and several bison options.
DZÔ Korean BBQ brings self-grilling to the dining room table with inset grills. Because it is Korean, the experience includes banchan, virtual relish trays that elevate radishes, sprouts, spinach, cucumbers, cabbage and other common vegetables. Wagyu options are available. Short ribs are flanked, stews fabulous, and reservations recommended.
Guests stay seated at Terra Grill Steakhouse and Churrascaria, but they stay involved by hailing servers who slice various meats off large skewers. The full Brazilian cowboy experience also includes the most eclectic and exotic salad bar in the state.
Traditional
Traditional steakhouses lit their dark interiors with the simple charms of neighborhood and common wealth. Jesse’s Embers has exemplified that since Jesse Rousch opened it in 1963. Besides the aroma of searing protein, the charm is the Embers’ compact size — just one cozy room and a bar. Loyal clientele has included every Iowa governor since Bob Ray and most every local power broker since it opened. Clint Eastwood stopped in when filming in Winterset. Reservations are impossible, and even U.S. senators wait for a table.
Ron and Mary Jaeger opened Chicago Speakeasy in 1978. From day one, it featured a 50-item bar of scratch salads. It’s still ice cooled, a labor intensive service that keeps salads colder than modern conveniences do. Prime rib has been the featured entrée since opening. John & Nick’s is a spin off.
Culinary gunslinger Paul Trostel rode in from Colorado in the early 1970s with fine dining in his sights. He opened Greeenbriar in 1983 on the far edge of town. Hidden from the authority of the day, he refined steakhouse culture with fine dining trappings. Every steak can still be accompanied with any sauce from the Escoffier handbook. The cowboy-style “gunpowder steak” is the most popular. Trostel’s Greenbriar embodies both the outlaw and the steakhouse conservative. White tablecloths in one room are balanced by wood and brass testosterone in another.
The Big Steer opened on another edge of town in 1983. Its signature signage suggests that everything will be big, especially portions. Prime rib has been the menu signature from day one.
Johnny’s Italian Steakhouse’s three metro stores are a tribute to 1950s supper clubs and particularly to Johnny and Kays by master restaurateur Mike Whalen.
AJ’s at Prairie Meadows has gone through several transformations. Once it was an all prime and aged more exclusive option to the casino’s extremely popular buffet. Now that the buffet has been retired, AJ’s is more affordable and less picky about its meats. Its excellent prime rib dinner was recently bargain-priced. Two things never change — trappings are deluxe, and scratch made desserts are both traditional and extraordinary.
The new high-end
When traditional Iowa steakhouses lost their sway, big chains moved in and redefined the genre. Lone Star, Texas Roadhouse, Outback and several versions of inexpensive “Greek” steakhouses all brought unique takes on the subject, none of them uplifting. Fortunately, 801 Chophouse originated in downtown Des Moines in 1993.
It was the brainchild of Jimmy Lynch, arguably both the most visionary and the most noteworthy restaurateur in town. It was anointed by RW Apple, New York Times’ top political analyst and “food correspondent at large.” It has expanded to Omaha, Kansas City, Leawood, Minneapolis, Denver, St. Louis, and soon to Tysons Corner.
Options for wet aging, dry aging and A5 wagyu can be prepared with bone marrow butter, black truffle butter, red king crab Oscar, and cognac cream. Despite a plethora of new high-end steakhouses, 801 is still the one that others must use as a measure.
Irina’s Steak and Seafood has a Russian take on steakhouse culture. Jazz nights, Russian nights, Mexican nights, and other special events bring over-the-top touches like BBQ crocodile and vodka flights from all the great vodka countries. Prime beefsteaks are offered wet or dry aged.
Ruth’s Chris West Des Moines prescribes steroids for steakhouse culture. The biggest store in the entire chain, it encompasses two floors, 15,000 square feet, 450 seats, four dining rooms, three heated patios, two bars and several private rooms. It has its own wine club with private lockers. And, of course, it serves all USDA prime, aged beef. Trappings include tablecloth dining and a 1960s style dress code in the main dining room. When Ruth Fertel opened her first restaurant in 1960s New Orleans, she did it on $4,000 of borrowed money. The West Des Moines store has a dozen chandeliers that cost that much and one that cost $30,000. It’s also open for lunch, a rare thing for steakhouses.
Prime and Providence is the new kid on the Jordan Creek block. It is fully charged for the challenge with an oyster bar, caviar service, wet and dry aged steaks and options for A5 Kobe and bison short ribs. It also has resurrected cooking over real coals, something even Jesse’s Embers has abandoned.
The scent of freshly cut meat searing over open flames is primal — one that encouraged our progenitors to straighten their spines, walk on just two legs, fashion spears and invent fire.
During the second half of the 19th century, beefsteak became an international obsession and a status food. It transformed the American range into the world’s largest feed lot. Between the Civil War and 1880, Midwest cattle populations increased 30 times over. Because Iowa’s fertile soil grew the most grain, the state’s fatted cows produced the gold standard of that new food economy at a time when food drove all economies.
For a century, the status of Iowa beef extended to New York City steakhouses and beyond. In 1959, Des Moines businessman Harry Bookey, then 11, told Russian Premiere Nikita Khrushchev that the U.S.S.R. might have an edge in satellite technology, but our beef was superior. Though a staunch Russian chauvinist, Khrushchev conceded the point.
When Khrushchev visited Des Moines, Iowa beef represented the culmination of one of the great romances in the histories of both agriculture and human migration. After Europeans got word of Iowa’s black soil, immigrants flocked across oceans, mountains, forests and the hellfire of the Great Plains to realize the American dream of owning land from which they could make a good life.
By the end of the 19th century, they made Iowa a rich state. That wealth was sustainable and a source of pride. Fields produced corn in such abundance that farmers fed it to horses and cattle. Muscle meat from those cornfed cows became the final link in the great 19th- and 20th-century food chain that stretched from Iowa to the dining rooms of the best-fed people in world history.
For the next 100 years, Iowa steakhouses conjured a collective longing for halcyon days when corn was used for the sustenance of superior livestock, not to fuel cars, sweeten soft drinks or to use as toothpaste filler. Our steakhouses are touchstones to the farms and small towns from which many of Des Moines area families moved. Eighty percent of Iowa counties peaked in population more than 110 years ago while the Des Moines area grew continuously.
Steakhouses used to cover the state. In smaller towns, they often became surrogate country clubs — places for people to celebrate special occasions of life. Towns as small as Doon had steakhouses that drew diners from afar. In Hawarden, a WWI vet built a steakhouse by dragging stones uphill from the Big Sioux River and commissioning a Chicago artist to paint a mural of the barmaid who had charmed him in France.
The steakhouses of the mid 1900s exuded leather, oak and brass testosterone. Their smoke signals entreated us to, in Christina Rossetti’s words, “Sit down and feast with us, be a welcome guest with us.”
Sadly, much of that is gone. The last time I tried to visit Hawarden, my photographer phoned before I got there. The new steakhouse owner had threatened him with a loaded gun. Police advised us to stay away. Doon still has a steakhouse, but Hawarden’s grand dame, and most smalltown steakhouses, are now wind-grieved ghosts.
As recently as 1970, 70% of Iowa farmers raised cattle. Iowa led the nation in beef production between World War II and 1980, peaking in 1969 at 7 million. Big changes came in the 1980s as fossil fuels became cheaper and Iowa farm land more expensive. Today, less than one-fourth of Iowa farmers raise cattle. Our feedlot population sets a post-World War II low almost every year.
The cattle moved west to cheaper land while Iowa’s old grazing fields were plowed over for row crop farming. Most of Iowa’s cattle feeders moved to urban and suburban centers. Even the nickname “Cattlefeeders” has been scrapped by high school sports teams. We are the No. 9 cattle state now.
Hogs are Iowa’s new brand, and it’s not a pretty story. You can cross the length or width of Iowa now without ever seeing a pig. Some 23 million of them are hidden mostly in confinements. There are no pork chop houses, except at the Iowa State Fair. Big, non-Iowa restaurant chains have created an ersatz steakhouse culture that claims to be various kinds of Texan, Gaucho, Greek or Aussie.
The real deal survived in Montour with Rube’s, in Anita at the Redwood, at Archie’s Waeside in Le Mars and Kalmes’ in St. Donatus, at Moe Brady’s in Davenport and Bogie’s in Albia, at J Bruner in Clarinda and Fireside in Anthon. As the center of the beef universe moved west, the woebegone aura of our steakhouses grew like nostalgia at a high school reunion.
Then, in the COVID-ravaged ruins of steakhouse culture, a revival emerged more glorious than ever. The Jordan Creek neighborhood alone suddenly boasts four high-end, all prime and aged beef steakhouses. 801 Chophouse branched out from its downtown origin and is about to open its eighth store, in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia.
Here is the state of our steakhouse art.
Experiential
Experiential dining is a new, real thing. Stock market analysts specialize in it. It manifests in steakhouses that pair dining with self-involvement. Rube’s emerged from a tavern in Montour, population 250, in 1973 when Glen Rubenbauer went all-in on offering food with booze. He brought outdoor grilling inside and sold steaks for guests to cook themselves.
Rube’s Montour store now occupies an entire square block, virtually all of downtown Montour. The steakhouse raises its own beef and has a large mail-order business. A second restaurant opened in Waukee 25 years ago. The legend of Rube’s was such that New York Times, Boston Globe and Gourmet magazine all visited Montour.
Iowa Beef Steakhouse opened in 1982 after Pier owner Henry Schneider visited Rube’s and saw a future inspired by Iowa rather than his native Eastern Shore. Today, it is a friendly, more economical alternative to Rube’s, owned and operated by Schneider’s former bartender and manager.
Range Grill & Golf does the grilling while customers play a round of golf, simulated on the world’s greatest golf courses. The steaks are top notch, too, including wagyu, aged prime and several bison options.
DZÔ Korean BBQ brings self-grilling to the dining room table with inset grills. Because it is Korean, the experience includes banchan, virtual relish trays that elevate radishes, sprouts, spinach, cucumbers, cabbage and other common vegetables. Wagyu options are available. Short ribs are flanked, stews fabulous, and reservations recommended.
Guests stay seated at Terra Grill Steakhouse and Churrascaria, but they stay involved by hailing servers who slice various meats off large skewers. The full Brazilian cowboy experience also includes the most eclectic and exotic salad bar in the state.
Traditional
Traditional steakhouses lit their dark interiors with the simple charms of neighborhood and common wealth. Jesse’s Embers has exemplified that since Jesse Rousch opened it in 1963. Besides the aroma of searing protein, the charm is the Embers’ compact size — just one cozy room and a bar. Loyal clientele has included every Iowa governor since Bob Ray and most every local power broker since it opened. Clint Eastwood stopped in when filming in Winterset. Reservations are impossible, and even U.S. senators wait for a table.
Ron and Mary Jaeger opened Chicago Speakeasy in 1978. From day one, it featured a 50-item bar of scratch salads. It’s still ice cooled, a labor intensive service that keeps salads colder than modern conveniences do. Prime rib has been the featured entrée since opening. John & Nick’s is a spin off.
Culinary gunslinger Paul Trostel rode in from Colorado in the early 1970s with fine dining in his sights. He opened Greeenbriar in 1983 on the far edge of town. Hidden from the authority of the day, he refined steakhouse culture with fine dining trappings. Every steak can still be accompanied with any sauce from the Escoffier handbook. The cowboy-style “gunpowder steak” is the most popular. Trostel’s Greenbriar embodies both the outlaw and the steakhouse conservative. White tablecloths in one room are balanced by wood and brass testosterone in another.
The Big Steer opened on another edge of town in 1983. Its signature signage suggests that everything will be big, especially portions. Prime rib has been the menu signature from day one.
Johnny’s Italian Steakhouse’s three metro stores are a tribute to 1950s supper clubs and particularly to Johnny and Kays by master restaurateur Mike Whalen.
AJ’s at Prairie Meadows has gone through several transformations. Once it was an all prime and aged more exclusive option to the casino’s extremely popular buffet. Now that the buffet has been retired, AJ’s is more affordable and less picky about its meats. Its excellent prime rib dinner was recently bargain-priced. Two things never change — trappings are deluxe, and scratch made desserts are both traditional and extraordinary.
The new high-end
When traditional Iowa steakhouses lost their sway, big chains moved in and redefined the genre. Lone Star, Texas Roadhouse, Outback and several versions of inexpensive “Greek” steakhouses all brought unique takes on the subject, none of them uplifting. Fortunately, 801 Chophouse originated in downtown Des Moines in 1993.
It was the brainchild of Jimmy Lynch, arguably both the most visionary and the most noteworthy restaurateur in town. It was anointed by RW Apple, New York Times’ top political analyst and “food correspondent at large.” It has expanded to Omaha, Kansas City, Leawood, Minneapolis, Denver, St. Louis, and soon to Tysons Corner.
Options for wet aging, dry aging and A5 wagyu can be prepared with bone marrow butter, black truffle butter, red king crab Oscar, and cognac cream. Despite a plethora of new high-end steakhouses, 801 is still the one that others must use as a measure.
Irina’s Steak and Seafood has a Russian take on steakhouse culture. Jazz nights, Russian nights, Mexican nights, and other special events bring over-the-top touches like BBQ crocodile and vodka flights from all the great vodka countries. Prime beefsteaks are offered wet or dry aged.
Ruth’s Chris West Des Moines prescribes steroids for steakhouse culture. The biggest store in the entire chain, it encompasses two floors, 15,000 square feet, 450 seats, four dining rooms, three heated patios, two bars and several private rooms. It has its own wine club with private lockers. And, of course, it serves all USDA prime, aged beef. Trappings include tablecloth dining and a 1960s style dress code in the main dining room. When Ruth Fertel opened her first restaurant in 1960s New Orleans, she did it on $4,000 of borrowed money. The West Des Moines store has a dozen chandeliers that cost that much and one that cost $30,000. It’s also open for lunch, a rare thing for steakhouses.
Prime and Providence is the new kid on the Jordan Creek block. It is fully charged for the challenge with an oyster bar, caviar service, wet and dry aged steaks and options for A5 Kobe and bison short ribs. It also has resurrected cooking over real coals, something even Jesse’s Embers has abandoned.
