Cattleman’s Club Steakhouse, Pierre, South Dakota

Nancy and I got up at 0 Dark 30 for our 10K walk in Bismarck, even before the morning coffee was hot at our hotel. We finished up, hopped in the car, took the back road down the Missouri River through the Sioux Reservation, across the bridge at Mowbridge, and on to Pierre.

You need to take that drive. Not the fast drive, the one that tracks the Missouri. It’s gorgeous. It’s not just the terrain and the views of the river, it’s the incredible agriculture. When you see it, the amount that a relative handful of farmers produce in the USA boggles the mind. We drove past fields exponentially larger than any in the East. They follow each other one after another, not 40-acre fields, but fields 400 acres and larger. There were huge bright yellow fields of canola as far as the eye could see, corn, wheat fields waving, sunflowers, crops I couldn’t identify, on and on forever. We’d see nothing but crops and a few houses and barns for miles, and then whole cities of silos, bins, and grain elevators next to rail lines, an a few houses. It was an incredible picture of beauty, abundance, and majesty.

We reached Pierre and checked into a motel with a view of the broad Missouri. We’d come prepared, thanks to Sarabeth Donovan. Sarabeth worked with me in my voting rights/Justice Department days. Sarabeth is a fine attorney and, much more important, a genuinely good person, the sort who quits work and moves across the country to help a relative take care of a child. I lured her back to Washington, but she again left, this time for South Dakota, to be near her aging parents. Sarabeth was snapped up by the US Attorney in Pierre. Now in Rapid City, she declared that we had to go to the Cattleman’s Club for their prime rib or a steak, so we did.

The Cattleman’s Club is enormously popular, especially on a Saturday night, and Sarabeth warned us to arrive before the 5:00 pm opening. Nancy and I pulled up at quarter ’til, and there already were cars on the parking lot. Up front was a party of 12, but we were close enough to the front to get a choice table by the window looking across the wide Missouri at the Lewis and Clark trail.

Inside, Cattleman’s Club is pure South Dakota. The walls are wood paneling and the TVs are tuned to rodeo. Myril Arch bought the land, got through the FHA in only two years, and waited three more years while the city and county argued over whether the location was inside or outside the Pierre city limits. Arch and his son finally opened it as a bar in February 1986. They covered the floor with wood shavings. After the delays Arch couldn’t afford carpeting. The Cattleman’s Club started serving steaks n September 1986. It now serves over 100,000 diners per year, and wood shavings still cover the floors. Myril’s daughter runs the place now, and her son runs a Cattleman’s Club in Mitchell, South Dakota.

Nancy and I had barely sat down before our server, the utterly delightful Hanna, appeared with menus, water, and suggestions for more interesting beverages, including wine and beer lists. Nancy started with a nice cabernet, but since it was close to 100 outside, I started with half of my water and the first local brew on the list, a Fernson Shy Giant IPA, which was really very good. Still, I wish I’d read on. I would have ordered a Mt Rushmore Rutherfruit B Haze, if only for the name. (I switched to a cabernet for my meal.)

We enjoyed a drink, the view, and Hanna’s visits, and discussed the menu. Nancy ordered the small (10-ounce) prime rib on Sarabeth’s suggestion (“Best prime rib in the world”), with broccoli and a baked potato as her sides. Texas toast came with it. She topped it with sautéed onions and mushrooms.

And, mindful of my formerly boyish figure, I ordered a small (14-ounce) strip steak, rare, rather than the 16-ounce ribeye. Self-deception is one of the keys to happiness.

I’d chosen a salad as my second side. It came dressed with good bleu cheese, my choice for steak dinners, and a sort of portable mini salad bar.

The prime rib was very tender. Nancy volunteered, “It’s so tender!” She repeated the statement and gave me a taste. I said, “It’s so tender!” Not all of our dinners so sparkle with such sophisticated repartee, but the Cattleman’s Club was an inspiration.  You noted that the prime rib arrived swimming in jus. I had my eye on it, knowing that it would render my Texas toast transcendent. I never got a chance. The jus seemed to evaporate toward Nancy’s toast and potato as she ate.

My New York strip was genuinely rare, and blessed with a very beefy, very good flavor. It was very good beef, a delicious steak, and the meal fully met — exceeded — Sarabeth’s lofty claims. Sarabeth also was right about the crowds. A crowd was waiting as we were leaving.

What a delicious meal! What a warm, welcoming place in a beautiful setting. And what a drive from Bismarck down to Pierre. South Dakota has much to offer, as you’ll read in my next post. Meanwhile, sit back and dream of oh, so tender prime rib, and richly marbled steaks.

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