This weekend, Idahomie and I had a sudden lunch hankering for Italian
food. Even though the griddle was still warm from french toast, it was
a strong, almost urgent need.
After extensive web research (well, actually, just typing "queens italian" in chowhound), it seemed the consensus was that Trattoria L'Incognito is the best Italian in Queens, and the tricked-out website, which played Andrea Bocelli and had slideshows of the interior, showcased a tasty-looking menu. Despite terrifying, apocalyptic rain, lightning, and thunder, we ventured out to make the long trek to Astoria.
I'd never been to Astoria before, except for one late-night subway misadventure, during which I spent thirty minutes at some rainy elevated station on the N/W. We rode the train all the way to the end, and descended to the street. There were signs for some kind of Greek Street Fair, but no Greek Street Fair to be seen. We spotted Trattoria L'Incognito and walked towards it. That's when I noticed, from afar, a hand-painted sign hanging from the awning. Closed For Vacation.
Yes, that's right. All the way to Astoria, in a torrential downpour, quixotically seeking a late Italian lunch, only to be turned away at the door by the humane (annoying!) European work ethic, which actually allows proprietors and employees vacation. As if!!
So, now it was raining and Idahomie and I were in some weird neighborhood that seemed to be filled solely with McDonald's, Off-Track Betting, bank ATMs, and closed things. That other little restaurant on the corner? Closed. That place with the cute awning? Closed. EVERYTHING WAS CLOSED. I had the brilliant idea to go into the AT&T store and look up "food" on a demo iPhone. They were out of iPhones.
But the nice woman at the counter suggested a steakhouse that was "really good" nearby. She said to turn left at the next block and walk to 41st Street. We said thanks and began our trek towards this "really good" steakhouse.
She didn't tell us that the walk was about a million miles into the most random part of Astoria. It was neither charming nor uncharming, just...weird. A big brick commercial building, then some houses, then a little apartment, then a ramshackle old barber. It was an aging, bizarre landscape. Eventually we came upon the Greek Food Fair, where a few people were sitting at wet plastic tables in wet plastic chairs eating wet souvlaki off of wet trays. An Orthodox priest climbed wetly into the driver's seat of a tricked-out Mercedes E-Class, which was partially blocked in by sodden hay bales and a porta-potty.
We walked gamely on, starving at this point, nervous that her directions had been faulty. "Maybe it was left not right." "Are you sure you didn't see some place called Christo's back there somewhere?" "No."
Then, in the distance, it appeared--a beacon of food in a succorless landscape. Christos! It exists!
We were drenched, and it took a few minutes in the dark banquette to come to our senses again. We watched the lobsters in the tank, extraordinarily huge things that clambered scarily on top of one another. They reminded me a little of my cat, or maybe a prehistoric terror-bug.
According to their menu, Christos dry ages their own meat for 21 days, and char-broils it at 1200 degrees. They also serve as a butcher, and will sell you cuts of said dry-aged beef to take home and cook yourself (though I doubt many people have access to 1200 degree heat at home. Self-Clean?)
The appetizers all sounded great, the meat sounded great, the sides sounded great. The Pinot Noir was definitely great, and got us ready for the gigantic meal ahead. We didn't order too crazily, getting a mussel appetizer, two small filet mignons, and two sides.
The mussels were surprising--huge, huge mussels in a light wine, tomato, and garlic sauce. I don't normally like large mussels (in fact, i've only recently learned to like mussels at all!), because they have such a strong oceanic flavor. But these were enjoyable, and the light, thin sauce was the perfect counterpoint to the meaty, chewy saltiness of the mussels.
The steaks were INCREDIBLE. Truly great, these steaks. Buttery flavor (but not the tacky taste of butter draped over an steak), and surprising, delightful bursts of oregano from the herbs judiciously applied. The grilled asparagus was tasty, as was the straightforward, creamy mashed potatoes. They were probably the least impressive thing on the menu, because they were just plain old mashed potatoes. This is not to say there were any left at the end. Oh! And the tart, snappy olive tapenade served with bread at the beginning was delicious (the bread was so-so, to be honest). Almost forget to tell you about that.
In any case. It wasn't cheap at all, especially for a random weekend late lunch, but Christos is indisputably a real, live, fantastic steakhouse. When we got back to the apartment, Idahomie and I did some research and indeed, people seemed to be in agreement that it is one of the better steakhouses in the city, and that the only negative thing about it is its weird location. They're right!
Here are some links to posts about Christos, should you want to know more.
Christos Steak House
41-08 23rd Avenue
Astoria, NY
718-777-8400
Subway: N/W to Astoria-Ditmars (then walk forever!)
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