About Restaurant Openings Around DC
A guide to the newest places to eat and drink.
STK. 901 Massachusetts Ave., NW.
When “Not Your Daddy’s Steakhouse” STK first strutted into the DC dining scene in 2014, it fashioned itself as a steakhouse “geared toward females.” In reality, it was the wrong kind of meat market. The restaurant marketed itself with images of red stilettos piercing bloody steaks, and bare-midriff models in short skirts roamed the splashy opening party, where local rich dudes like Mark Ein and Michael Saylor schmoozed in the VIP section. Cocktails came with girly names like “French Kiss” and “Pink Elegance.” And steaks could be ordered in “small” portions, perpetuating the stereotype that women have small appetites. A PR director at the time said the quiet part out loud: “Truly, our CEO’s mentality is where the girls go to play, the men will follow.”
The restaurant only lasted two years.
But now, STK is back. The restaurant opened this month in the Marriot Marquis space that celebrity chef Mike Isabella occupied before sexual harassment allegations took down his empire. This time, though, STK has swapped sexism for “vibes.” The restaurant—which now has 27 other locations from South Beach to Dubai—still calls itself “Not Your Daddy’s Steakhouse,” but the “female-friendly” branding is gone. Instead, it’s selling itself as “the leader in Vibe Dining.” Representatives for the restaurant “politely declined” my interview request, so I decided to go and party.
The place is already packed when I arrive around 7 PM on a Friday night. Two men in black suits stand sentry at the hotel lobby entrance with four hostesses wrangling the crowds. “Do you have a reservation?,” one of the hostesses asks. I don’t. She tells me to give her a minute while she sees what’s available. The waiting area starts to swell, and I hear another hostess tell a group the bar is full. I spy one woman rocking thigh-high camo-print boots and a studded jean jacked. Another has on a full-length shimmering gold gown with a plunge neckline, as if she’s headed to the Oscars. And then there’s a middle aged dude in khakis and a North Face vest still wearing a lanyard from whatever conference he’s in town for. “Is this a steakhouse or a club?,” he asks.
Ten minutes pass and the hostess hasn’t actually asked me to put my name down, so I go check in. “Do you have a reservation?,” she asks again. She’s forgotten me. But as soon as my friend arrives, we are actually seated quickly.
White horns along the walls and curvy white slats jutting from the ceiling make the space feel like you’re inside the ribcage of a giant beast—like bygone dive bar the Big Hunt, if it had been designed by slick New York executives. Neon signs scream “Dare to be” and “Bubbles are a girl’s best friend.” Mist illuminated in a cherry blossom-pink glow flickers like some kind of witches’ brew along a mirrored wall. I also notice at least one image from the old STK: a leggy model in a short red dress carrying a raw steak on a hook and a meat cleaver.
When it comes to so-called “vibe dining,” there are two types of places: those where the right combination of people, music, and lighting seem to serendipitously coalesce into something actually fun, and those that feel like they’re following some kind of vibe formula pieced together from TikTok. STK checks off all the clichés that have come to define “vibe” in the clubstaurant era; The music’s too loud to hear your date, and the room too dark to tell if they’re attractive. “Loud, aesthetically pleasing, and just good enough. Yeah, that’s Miami,” my dining companion assesses.
One thing that’s apparently not a vibe? Having to pee. Mysteriously, the restaurant has no restrooms. Instead, I squeeze past the throngs at the bar, through the guts of the beast, then cross the entire Marriot Marquis lobby, asking for directions twice along the journey, to find the only women’s stalls.
Back at the table, I realize it’s Not Your Daddy’s Steakhouse, but it could definitely be your sugar daddy’s steakhouse. Cocktails like the “Cucumber Stiletto” and “Unchained Passion” are $22 each, and most appetizers hover around $30. Steaks still come in small, medium, and large sizes, ranging from $52 for an 8-ounce skirt to $163 for a 34-ounce dry-aged Tomahawk. (You can spend even more on Japanese A5 wagyu or lobster tail add-ons.) We opt for a few starters and a medium-sized steak (a 14-ounce New York strip for $71), plus two sides ($19 each). The steak is cooked more medium than medium-rare and the burrata is meh, but the tuna tartare is surprisingly delicious and the side of mac and cheese is super creamy and decadent. Perhaps that’s the genius of “vibe dining:” you expect it to be expensive but you don’t expect it to be good.
By 9 PM, the music has gotten even louder and the lights even dimmer. “I don’t care, I love it” blasts as the waitstaff snakes through the room waving glow sticks and handing out pink shots to everyone. Servers are dancing, diners are singing (“I’m a ’90s bitch!”), vibez are vibing. I grab my phone to capture the moment—are you really vibe dining if you’re not creating social media content??—and accidentally spill my free shot on the floor.
Jessica Sidman covers the people and trends behind D.C.’s food and drink scene. Before joining Washingtonian in July 2016, she was Food Editor and Young & Hungry columnist at Washington City Paper. She is a Colorado native and University of Pennsylvania grad.
