Bar Nestor

More of an experience than just a meal. We got in line at 5:30 p.m., with the doors opening at 6:30 p.m. We were fortunate enough to secure a spot at a table for later that night at 9:15 p.m. We could have eaten earlier, but we'd have had to stand at the bar. We weren't early enough in the queue to secure some of the famous tortilla. While in the queue, you overhear snippets of conversation: nervous excitement, "Have we gotten here early enough?" "Will there be any tortilla left?" "Can steak really be worth queuing this much?!" When you arrive at your allocated time to worship at this temple to beef, you're first greeted by a golden light spilling onto the street, a heavenly aroma of roasting meat, and the clatter and buzz of a busy restaurant. The waiting staff are busy delivering sizzling platters of meat, juicy tomatoes, and glistening padron peppers, but you're greeted with a smile and a nod—you are one of the lucky few. There is no menu. You either say yes or no. But who would say no? The only choice you have is which of the two steaks you're offered is the one for you. The steak is a Txuleta (pronounced chuleta), the cut of beef for the region. It's a bone-in sirloin steak of epic proportions—easily enough for two. You don't wait long before the food starts arriving. First, the tomatoes with olive oil, then a plate of padron peppers, piping hot and delicious. Finally, the steak arrives, cooked fast and hot on a cast iron plate, spitting droplets of fat to forewarn of its arrival. It's presented sliced with the bone, seasoned liberally with sea salt, showing off its rare-ness for all to see. If rare steak isn't your thing, don't worry—you can spread the steak out on the iron plate, and the considerable residual heat will soon finish cooking the meat. But for us, it was perfectly cooked and delicious. In a world where expensive food can be overthought and too complex, this is food stripped back to its basic principles: the best ingredients, cooked well. Simple, but not lesser for that simplicity. As you eat, people come and go—the unfortunate ones who get turned away, the unprepared who didn't queue but get pulled in off the street by Bar Nestor's beefy gravitational pull. The whole process, from the nervous queue to the last morsel, combines to satisfy both soul and stomach. Go and worship the beef—you won’t regret it.