I don’t know how to do the Electric Slide. But I like the Shopping Cart. It’s a move that doesn’t require any physical coordination. You push an imaginary shopping cart, lifting items off the make-believe shelves and dropping them in the cart. Even I can do that.
But alas, the shiny dance floor this evening at Victor’sis empty, and that part of the room is dark. It’s not even 8 o’clock yet. At the bar, several customers have parked their behinds on stools facing the flat-screen TVs. Our waitress parks her cigarette in an ashtray behind the bar and scoots over, flashing a big lipstick-lined smile.
“Do you want to see the food menu, or are you just planning to drink?”
We’re here for the food, I tell her, plopping down in one of the black booths across from the bar. The perimeter of the low-lit room is lined with booths. And the walls are covered with mirrors. It’s like having eyes on the back of your head.
You hear stories about Victor’s. And not rousing tales about the shrimp de jonghe or king-cut prime rib with a twice-baked potato.
After all, talk-radio personality Mark Belling is a regular here. (Sure enough, I spot him here one night glued to a barstool watching “Monday Night Football.”)
Co-owner Vic Jones, whose family opened the establishment 46 years ago, says he’d like Victor’s to be known for its food – its supper-club flair, which is becoming an uncommon sight in these modern times. The quality of the food may surprise you. It did me.
Instead, the longtime pickup joint has the nickname “Victim’s.”
I have a friend who, shaking her groove thing on Victor’s metal dance floor with a fella she met during a Bee Gees tune, had the rare experience of having the palm of her hand licked by her dance partner. Amazingly, Victor’s food is good enough to wipe that image clean from my memory.
There’s a menu of burgers, sandwiches, etc. for “lighter appetites.” But you might as well put the kitchen staff – including Jones’ sisters, Mary Ann and Susie – to work. They help keep the bountiful portions coming out of the kitchen. Entrées are preceded by a homemade soup or green salad. I’m talking a big bowl of thick soup, enough to make a meal on its own. Black bean, topped with cheese and sour cream, and chicken with dumplings and vegetables are two of memorable note.
The 8-ounce tenderloin lives up to its name ($24.50). Sautéed button mushrooms, draped over the top, ooze butter. The steak belongs with one of two partners – a twice-baked potato blanketed in melted cheese or a nest of crispy fried hash browns. Either potato should have a home with the prime rib, a marbled-to-the-hilt hunk of softness that comes in a queen cut (18 ounces, $21.75) or king cut (22 ounces, $25.75).
The intimidation level for a 22-ounce piece of meat is considerable, so it’s a good thing Victor’s is “known for our shrimp,” as our server, Larry, points out on another evening. This time I’m seated in the back room near the dance floor. Pondering that revelation in the mirror, I see a woman wrapped in a burlap poncho swaying to Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing.” I’m going for that shrimp.
And in fact, I’d liken the shrimp de jonghe to Eva Gabor. A woman dripping in baubles and furs. The eight or so butterfly shrimp are coated in creamy, garlicky breadcrumbs ($24.75). Absolutely delicious. The bed of al dente rice announces itself after a little excavation of the fork.
Server Larry doesn’t make similar “known for” claims about the tilapia, but I like this flaky mild fish – two buttery, lightly seasoned filets ($27). Two meals. One for the next day. Ignore the hungry eyes of the men seated at the bar. Trust me. They don’t want your leftovers.
Victor’s on Van Buren: 1230 N. Van Buren St., 414-272-2522. Hours: Mon-Sat 5-10 p.m. Prices: appetizers $9.50-$19; entrées $19.75-$51.50. Service: friendly enough, but slow when it was busy. Nonsmoking: no. Handicap access: Ask the bartender – or anyone – for help. Credit cards: M V A DS. Reservations: accepted.
