You could, of course, buy a steak from the butcher, take it home, toss it on the grill (or into a cast-iron skillet), cook to your desired level of doneness and serve it up with some potatoes and a side of vegetables and a nice red wine, and you'd have as good a meal as you could find at any steak house in the city. And it would be a hell of a lot cheaper. But there are times when you don't require just the steak, the greens and the potatoes, but also the white tablecloths, the heavy silver, the obsequious servers whisking the china plates off the table and ferrying them across the thick carpets to the far-off kitchen where someone else will wash them. On some particularly auspicious occasions when that mood strikes, you may happen to have the good fortune of dining with someone who doesn't mind throwing down the credit card. That's when you sally forth to Mike Shannon's, where the staff is perfectly happy to surround you with luxury, and butter. If you time it just right, you and Mr. or Ms. Moneybags can skip dessert and head across the vacant lot — er, the future site of Ballpark Village — to Busch Stadium for a few overpriced cold frosty ones enjoyed while comfortably ensconced in some primo box seats.
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