We were seated upon Mick Jagger's lips. From this enviable perch, which we requested after first being offered a plebian four-top, we gazed smugly upon the dining room. No common chairs for us. Tonight we'd sup atop a curvaceous and velvety red banquette, concealed behind a pair of gauzy curtains and positioned in a commanding corner, the better to provide a prime panorama of people-watching, plus a sideways glance at the Cardinals game that was being broadcast on a flat-screen TV in a glassed-off private dining room. Just call us the... More >>>
Conspicuous consumption: Ruth's Chris goes (way) over the top.