Juicy Steaks and Big Mistakes: My Beefbar NYC Date Disaster

After moving to New York City — a playground of luxury dining, high-end fashion, and endless romantic possibilities — the options felt limitless. From a treasure trove of thrift and consignment stores to cult-classic restaurants and hidden gems, NYC has it all. And when it comes to men? It’s like Baskin Robbins — 31 flavors and then some.

We’ve got the tech geeks, the fashion junkies, the skater boys, the finance fiends — a smorgasbord of eligible bachelors. Or so you’d think.

Hold my hand and let me transport you to one of my worst dates to date — at none other than Beefbar NYC, Tribeca’s hottest upscale steakhouse.

It was an after-work evening like any other, where I scheduled a date hoping to check off a few boxes on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: food, friendship, and maybe a little bit of a buzz. I raced home Uptown at 7:30 PM, giving myself barely an hour to get ready for my 8:30 PM date in Tribeca. A 20-minute speedrun through hair and makeup had me thanking my years of great skincare and a solid haircare routine — because tonight, my makeup was rushed, but my skin was glowing.

The outfit? A textbook high-low fashion mix: a $59.99 Zara dress paired with the most comfortable Balenciaga slip-on heels and my beloved Lindsay bag — a sample sale steal from my time working there. The bag barely had room for my key fob and a lip gloss, but that’s fine because, honey, I wasn’t paying tonight.

Tonight’s date was a finance bro I met at a… let’s call it a “questionable” hookah lounge. He was the friend of a friend of a guy I met on Instagram. Red flag number one.

I arrived at Beefbar NYC, right across from Bubby’s (shoutout to my last blog post!), and there he was — waiting at the host stand. Let’s call him Mr. Big. Not because of any resemblance to Carrie Bradshaw’s love interest, but because this man was easily 7 feet tall and built like a linebacker. So far, so good. He complimented me a few times as we were escorted to our table.

The ambiance at Beefbar NYC was everything I’d hoped for — lively, youthful, and buzzing with energy. The dinner salon felt like the perfect mix of an upscale steakhouse and a not-so-secret speakeasy, with a trendy bar and lounge area in the back. The crowd was dressed to impress, and the vibe was pure New York chic.

As we settled in, I noticed the playful detail of dinner plates decorated with emoji-like animations — a fun touch that set the tone for the night. We scanned the menu, making small talk about friends, family, and future goals. The menu featured an impressive selection of high-end cuts and globally-inspired sides, and we quickly agreed on a 10oz Filet Mignon from the American Wagyu section, accompanied by mashed potatoes and my personal favorite — parmesan and truffle fries.

Then came the moment.

“What temperature should we get the steak?” He asked. “Medium rare,” I added with a smile, already imagining that perfect, tender bite.

Mr. Big looked me dead in the eye, grinned… and said: “Raw.”

RAW?!

Years of self-taught media training (a.k.a. binge-watching reality TV) kicked in. I calmly expressed my distaste for beef tartare, trying to make my case for cooked meat while sipping on my perfectly crafted Beefbar Mezcalita.

But Mr. Big doubled down. “Raw,” he said again — louder, this time.

As our waiter set the silverware, the tension was thicker than the wagyu crust I was about to devour. I tried to defuse the situation the only way I knew how: by shoveling five truffle fries at a time into my mouth. Meanwhile, Mr. Big made it his mission to go from the bleachers to third base before the steak even hit the table.

I needed an escape plan.

Two drinks in, after an eternity of awkward conversation, I excused myself to the bathroom. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. I sat there, Mezcalita in hand, desperately trying to get a signal to call my Uber.

Finally — a single bar. Enough to book my getaway ride.

And just like that… I ghosted.

Sorry, dude.

I may have left single, but I left with a belly full of prime wagyu and a story worth telling. And let me tell you — the sensory experience of that perfectly seasoned, tender steak, combined with their expertly crafted cocktails, was well worth the horror show of the date.

Despite the company, Beefbar NYC delivered. From the upscale yet playful ambiance to the standout dishes and lively crowd, this spot deserves its hype. I’ll definitely be back — next time, with more peaceful company.

Pro tip: Make a dinner reservation no matter your party size. The salon was packed, and the crowd was dressed to impress. If you’re looking for one of the best upscale steakhouses in Tribeca, Beefbar NYC is your spot. Just… maybe skip the finance bros.