At Uncle Jack’s Steakhouse in Bayside, Queens on a hot summer Sunday morning, I’m surrounded by dark wood, red brick, and white linen. Sinatra is playing overhead. The surroundings make me feel as though I should be exclusively indulging in some kind of carnivorous spectacle, honoring a beast that died so that I could live. Something with char marks, a pat of butter, and a potato on the side, split down the middle with its sour cream and chive guts spilling out.
You can have that kind of classic steakhouse experience at the 1920s speakeasy-inspired twenty-one-year-old restaurant, but I’m pulling apart a fluffy and flavorful cheese popover instead, wishing that I could get my third helping of honey butter or some more peanut butter (thick) bacon before the ricotta jar hits the table. This is brunch at a steakhouse.
The original idea for my Uncle Jack’s visit had been to experience steak and eggs for the first time. A throwback from a bygone era, a dish that had faded but never vanished. For decades, steak and eggs didn’t seem to fit in a world of low-cholesterol dogmatics. But with attitudes changing once again, and many in pursuit of a high protein/low-carb option, the so-called “Cowboy Breakfast” has become progressively hip once more. Not so much so that people are better equipped to handle the rigors of farm work, but so they can add mass and crush at the gym. Or just be full.
Though steak and eggs may have refound its niche as a utility option, the traditional appearance still lacks verve and plate appeal. We’re talking about a fatty T-bone and a runny sunny side up egg, after all — something you either find sexy or you don’t. But that’s not the take on steak and eggs that Uncle Jack’s executive chef Jayson Margolis offers me as a part of a tasting menu. Instead, my fork hovers over a New York Strip, chosen for the restaurant’s brunch diners because of its leaner attributes and, according to Margolis, the “real meaty flavor and mouthfeel.”
A filet is too soft and the more traditional rib-eye would overwhelm with its greasy plate aesthetic according to the chef, who also reveals a bit about how they choose to season their steaks, throwing Maldon sea salt, a French style sea salt, a kosher salt, pink Himalayan salt, kosher brown black pepper, and a proprietary ingredient at the meat. There’s also a cilantro, jalapeno, and tomatillo salsa that’s drizzled on top of the steak, which is paired with a potato hash and fluffy farm fresh scrambled eggs (at my request); all presented in a cast iron skillet.
“When you’re eating, you’re getting all these wow bites. You’re getting the char from the meat, the crunch, and then a little bit of the heat from the salsa verde,” Margolis says enthusiastically, referencing the results gained from cooking the steaks with an 1,800 degree infrared broiler instead of, say, an all-purpose griddle like the sort you see at the Jersey diners that Margolis and I both grew up dining at. These greasy spoon diners are the places that first come to mind when you think steak and eggs.
“We want to have a lot of flavor and a lot of sensory things that are going on while you’re eating,” Margolis says.
And they do, the only thing is I can’t tell if I’m falling in love with steak and eggs or, exclusively, the steak and eggs at Uncle Jack’s, since the experience is so singular.
From its look to the menu, everything at Uncle Jack’s is designed with a purpose in mind: melding the past and the present in a way that appeals to the adherents of both.
“What we’ve done is take what we do traditionally the best and we try to pair it with a lot of the newer things [referring to the mimosas, the popovers, lemon mascarpone pancakes, and short rib hash that city brunch enthusiasts crave] that will still keep us fresh and innovative.”
It’s a dance. Cultural chemists like Margolis and Uncle Jack’s owner Willie Degel are always hard at work chasing the high of mixing old and new to drag a little bit of the past into the future. We don’t want to become our parents, but we can’t deny that they had some cool shit that earned the right to be called “timeless.” A big finned steel convertible, a white tee shirt, the sound of a crooner’s song, and, apparently, steak and eggs. Some things are always going to be good, you know? Ready for a remix and to reenter the cultural consciousness. But while it’s comforting to think about that continuity, it’s dangerous to dig in and resist the possibility of subtle innovation.
Note to chefs: If you can tweak the formula while still preserving the spirit of the experience, do so.
