After way too many nights spent scheming over too many pitchers at Bifteck in my youth, I veered north and didn't darken it's doorways for nigh on a decade. Then recently in the area it was the venue of cheering choice for whiskey shots and rounds of pitchers of blonde and the same old salty bowls of popcorn and it was like no time had passed.
The waitresses still are tough and nice in equal measure, the walls still coated with a previous generation of DuMauriers, the decor non-descript and divey satisfying, the tables small wooden and round, the ambiance gimick-free with the same old street-side people watching in the front and pool table in the back. It is just what it is, and it's plenty.