The first thing to remember is the name of the restaurant. It’s called BLT Prime by David Burke and not BLT Prime by Donald Trump. At the restaurant’s homepage, the address is listed simply as 1100 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, with no mention that this is the location of the Trump International Hotel—formerly the Old Post Office Pavilion. I imagine this is all intentional. And yet I am still picturing the Trump kids inside the kitchen dishing up the Skuna Bay Salmon and Lobster Scramble "Ostrich Style" and not Marc Hennessy and his team of chefs. It’s probably because the main dining room is on the second floor looking out over the hotel lobby with its massive crystal chandeliers and wide array of Trumpian furniture (which you too can own!). "It’s like Atlantic City," said one of my lunch companions. In other words, you can’t help but think of the man. And if you don’t want to think of the man, I recommend sitting in the darker first-floor dining room, away from all the gaudy reminders.
The second thing to remember is the hotel is still in the midst of a soft opening. The staff is aiming to fix all the various glitches before the official grand opening on October 24. Likewise, the restaurant has its own share of kinks to work out. Service was a little slow and seemed a bit confused, what with different servers taking our orders at different times, although they were unfailingly kind. Drink orders needed to be corrected—a martini with olives instead of a martini with a twist, a waiter mistaking an order of Zinfandel for White Zinfandel. (The server apologized for the supposed lack of Zinfandel and suggested a Rosé, which tipped us off.)
The appetizers and sides certainly did not lack for creativity—or maybe they were too creative by half. Three potatoes sautéed in rosemary, onions, and olive oil, and topped with lightly battered onion rings, were nestled neatly in a row and called "couch potatoes" (the container resembles a couch). "Clothesline Bacon" is a must on account of the flavors, but its presentation is rather over the top: Thick-cut slices are held by wooden clothespins dangling from a line. It is accompanied by brass scissors for you to do the snipping. What is this, Eleven Madison Park?
The corn and corned beef soup was fine for a fall day, but there are too many other dishes on the menu to try, not to mention the raw bar. Purists might despise the dressed local oysters, but the flavors are nevertheless eye-opening: Each one is topped with Virginia ham, sea urchin, and a pineapple mignonette. I found these bivalves to be a bite-sized joy, much like hitting a triple-7 jackpot at a Trump casino only to realize you’re in the section called Nickelmania.
But let us get to the meat of the matter. There are traditional steakhouses like the Palm and the Prime Rib and more modern interpretations like Charlie Palmer’s and Michael Mina’s Bourbon Steak. BLT Prime leans toward the latter. David Burke, known for his expertise in meats (and a two-time Top Chef Masters contestant), has divided his steaks into three categories: dry aged, wet aged, and salt aged. That last involves dry-aging the meat in a room packed with pink Himalayan salt. My request to access the room was denied—according to a publicist, the salt room is "top secret" and the aging technique is even patented.
There’s a 22-ounce Cowboy ribeye, a 32-ounce Tomahawk steak accompanied by red coat prawns for two, and a classic porterhouse, also for two, aged 45 days amid those Himalayan salt blocks and weighing in at 36 ounces. I ordered the Kansas City salt-aged bone-in steak, which came to the table weighing 20 ounces and aged 45 days. It had a perfectly salted crust and was tender and juicy on the inside—exactly how Donald Trump would not want his steak. The Kansas City was a hit at my table, more so than the southern fried chicken or even the wet-aged filet mignon. It does come with a house-made steak sauce, sweeter than A-1. (I’ve always wished someone would re-create the sauce described in Joseph Mitchell’s 1939 essay on beefsteak dinners, "All You Can Hold for Five Bucks": "One chef was slicing the big steaks with a knife that resembled a cavalry sabre and the other was dipping the slices into a pan of rich, hot sauce. ‘That’s the best beefsteak sauce in the world,’ Mr. Wertheimer said. ‘It’s melted butter, juice and drippings from the steak, and a little Worcestershire.’")
The problem is the steak isn’t the only thing that’s huuuge: So is the bill. My party of four for lunch, including a round of drinks and wines by the glass (but no bottles of wine) totaled more than $400 without tip. That Kansas City bone-in is $59. The filet mignon is $52. Dressed local oysters cost $25. Shrimp cocktail is $6 per shrimp. Sad!
"Under budget, ahead of schedule, saved tremendous money." That’s how Trump described his hotel here in D.C. But it’s not quite how I would describe my lunch.