Two Jews - one doesn't eat meat, one kosher altogether - venture into the valley on Superbowl Sunday in search of a nice non-kosher steakhouse dinner.  Discuss.

Entering the dim and dapper bar, rich in mahogany and towering spirits, we were greeted by staff suited up in crisp white button downs, bow ties and bon vivance.  It immediately warranted a double take - are we not Nordstrom Rack adjacent?  As we were escorted into the classically traditional dining room, clusters of magnum vintages and a Brown Derby reminiscent wall of black and white legends set the mood.  A colossal floral arrangement added a dramatic splash of formality, and if the Rat Pack wasn't gracing the airwaves, I probably would have heard them anyway.  It was their kind of room.

A gorgeous loaf (the whole loaf - welcome to steakhouse fare - where skimping is an abomination) of onion bread is brought to us as we're seated.  This well choreographed synchronicity was a sign of service to come.  Be it a product of elite management or more simply a good group, the wait staff worked together like reunited Italian cousins.  Picking up each other's plates and finishing each other's sentences, it was a pleasure to keep their collaborative company, let alone be on the receiving end of their overflowing hospitality.

A quick nod to the 818: when you select Woodland Hill's finest tap water over bottled or sparkling, nobody sneers.  Refreshing as the water itself.  And when the meal begins by presenting dessert options, because these need to be ordered in advance, I'm already feeling all cozy inside.  There's just something about someone preparing your dessert before you've even had dinner.

I started with the Morton's chopped, hold the bacon bits.  Considering I don't favor avocado (and I call myself a Californian) nor do I prefer Blue Cheese, I was shocked to find myself nabbing every last bite.   It's got great texture, this salad.  Between the hearts of palm and the crumbled egg, it's a salad that's been mastered over many years, clearly.  Not intended to overwhelm the courses to come, I'd opt for it over the Caesar any day.  My husband would disagree, but personally I'd save the garlic for the mashed potatoes. 

In the absence of carnivorous craving, I went with the crab cakes.  I was leaning towards the Sesame Crusted Yellowfin, but my husband ordered that and he has a thing about us ordering the same meal. Jumbo lump and luscious, these cakes actually feature crab over breadcrumbs, a welcome hierarchy so rarely represented in this plating.  On the side we selected the aforementioned mashed potatoes (available with garlic or without, go with the garlic, it's subtle yet punctuating) and the sautéed spinach and mushrooms.  Piping hot and beautifully prepared, enough for two with leftovers to boot.  See earlier comment on skimping.  Sometimes more is more. 

While the upside down apple cake was a finger-licking finale, when I saw the chocolate soufflé pass me by, I was a tad disappointed I didn't go that way.  It looked like a big chef's hat, puffing up and out and over the top of an oversized ramekin.  It was available in lemon too.  Next time.

In a dark room you'll be treated to vibrant service and 30 years of polished elegance.   Exposed brick and an exposed wine cellar bookend an authentic dining room oozing old school tradition and friendliness from an era bygone.  So take it from the Jew who doesn't eat meat and her some kind of wonder-kosh sidekick.  If we could fancy a steakhouse, I can't even fathom the yellow brick road to glory paved for the meat-eaters amongst you.  Grab your food enthusiasts and head to Woodland Hills.  The Morton's the merrier. 

By: Jolie Loeb

MORTON'S STEAKHOUSE

6250 Canoga Ave. Suite 111

Woodland Hills, CA 91367

818.703.7272

www.mortons.com
Mon.-Sat. 5:30-11pm Sun. 5:00-10pm