Sept. 27 (Bloomberg) -- Peter Luger Steak House is a Brooklyn tavern decorated in beer steins and celebrated for a single dish, a porterhouse steak that exits the kitchen presliced and slathered in a jus of blood, fat and butter. As one friend said of that unwholesome trinity, ``Those are my favorite things.''

Yet for me, after four recent visits, hot buttered steak does not define the place. A mean-spirited attitude does. Peter Luger has lost touch with the concept of restaurant hospitality.

It takes a long time to become so disagreeable, and the place has been around since 1887. Which of its owners, I wonder, had the diabolical idea of demanding that patrons bring cash? Which cost-cutting genius decided that their own sweet, bottled red sauce was appropriate for both sliced tomatoes and steak? (It's OK as a salad dressing, unsuitable for meat.)

At the tiny station outside the dining rooms, an unknown patron is likely to be treated with either indifference or contempt. You will hear one of the following: (1) We can't find your reservation. (2) Your table isn't ready. (3) You're wrong.

On the first of my visits, I arrived early on a Saturday evening after being told on the phone that I could be placed on a waiting list and get a table after an hour or two. When I showed up, the manager said he had no waiting list. I tried to explain. He interrupted, repeating himself. I protested. ``Get out of here,'' he snarled. Quite the restaurant professional.

Nursing Beer

Should you qualify for a table, you might decide to step up to the bar for a drink while waiting for your name to be called. A small stein of beer costs five bucks, and the bartender will be loath to smile.

Eventually, you will be led to a plain, unvarnished wooden table set with white-cloth napkins and cheap flatware. The bentwood chairs are attractive. The steak knives are among New York's worst. The wine glasses are New York's worst. The old- world waiters, all men, will ask, without preamble, ``You want a menu?'' It's not extensive, and regulars have it memorized.

The waiters, who seem all-knowing, will recommend the following: sliced tomatoes, which were supermarket-quality at the height of tomato season. The extra-thick, smoky bacon, not to be missed. The creamed spinach, salty but uplifted by masterful mixing of spinach and cream. French fries that taste fresh but were undercooked three of the four times I ordered them. The house-made whipped cream, which is indeed prepared on premises, unlike the strudels, pies and tarts. The thuddingly dull cheesecake.

Steak Assortment

The porterhouse steak can be ordered for two, three or four. Also available is a single steak and a small single steak. I ordered steak four times. The single steak, which appeared to be a bone-in sirloin, was beefy and satisfying, although too chewy to pass for prime. The small single steak, in comparison, was about three-quarter scale and exceedingly tender, but it lacked flavor and reminded me of veal.

The first porterhouse for two was magnificent, a strapping hunk of tangy, juicy meat boasting the exquisite tenderness of prime beef. The jus ran brown with blood. The second was flavorless, bloodless and rubbery. The jus ran clear. It's not uncommon to find disparities in steakhouse meat, but the enduring myth of Peter Luger is that every steak will be great.

Why didn't I send back that second porterhouse? Are you kidding? At lunch a few days earlier, a hamburger ordered medium- rare arrived medium-well. I asked the waiter for a substitute. He turned away without a word, composed himself, spun back smiling and removed it.

Hostile Burger

Much too soon, out came a replacement -- essentially hamburger tartare, raw meat given a quick sear. It was an act of stunning hostility. The kitchen staff might as well have tied a rock to that burger and thrown it through the windshield of my car.

I ask myself: Why do people love this place? It was so busy throughout September that every evening reservation was filled.

Occasionally, to Peter Luger's credit, a dish will overwhelm. This happened at a lunch, when a stunned friend said, ``I'm 55 years old and I eat hamburgers all the time and to find the best hamburger I've ever had is shocking. I didn't wake up this morning thinking this would happen.''

The porterhouse can be the most perfect prime beef in New York, but in my years of eating at Peter Luger, I've been lucky about half the time. On the other occasions, any pleasure I derived was attributable to butter and fat.

Mundane Sides

Epiphanies don't occur as often as they used to. The burger, assembled from steak trimmings and chuck, can indeed be breathtaking, but it's available only at lunch. No matter what salad you order, you can do better at a second-rate chain restaurant. The cold shrimp are refrigerated too long. The ``Luger's Special German Fried potatoes'' -- at $10.95 the most overpriced menu item -- are diner-quality hash browns. The small wine list, subject to much mockery, actually contains a find: 2004 Sea Smoke Southing Pinot Noir for $90.

Some customers cherish Peter Luger because they believe it epitomizes old New York values -- crusty old men and crusty aged steaks. For others, it's the enjoyment of the unexamined meal. No thinking required.

Your waiter will place the first two slices of meat on your plate. He will spoon out your spinach. He will offer a bit of comforting patter. One dumped a leftover tomato slice onto a plate containing a leftover shrimp and quipped, ``Surf and turf.'' I never said it was clever patter.

You can dress like a kid, and a lot of customers do -- I saw adults in shorts, many in jeans and T-shirts. You will feel like a kid; those square wooden tables make me want to take out crayons and a coloring book. After eating, you will be rewarded with a shiny gold coin filled with cheap milk chocolate. This isn't informal dining; this is infantile dining.

I understand the appeal. I like primitive pleasures, too. It's just that I prefer them accompanied by a soupcon of civility.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Prices range from $8.50 for the burger (lunch only) to $155.80 for a porterhouse steak for four. Cash or house credit card only.

Sound level? Not bad, in part because the staff hates speaking to customers.

Date place? Certainly, if you enjoy seeing loved ones with blood, fat and butter running down their chins.

Tip? The bacon. Maybe the best ever.

Special feature? Play the exciting Peter Luger dining game. Guess which employee will be rude to you first.

Lunch? Yes, every day.

Will I be back? I'm thinking of returning on Halloween and egging the joint.

Peter Luger Steak House, 178 Broadway, Brooklyn. Information: (1)(718) 387-7400 or http://www.peterluger.com.

(Alan Richman is a restaurant critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this story: Alan Richman at thecritic@optonline.net.

Last Updated: September 27, 2006 00:08 EDT