It had been close to a decade since last we braved the shopworn, smelly environs of Circus Circus just to grab a steak. Truth be told, we’d always liked the steakhouse — warm, clubby and man-musty as it is — but the short walk from the back parking lot to it — bobbing and weaving between the shoddiest bunch of turistas in Vegas — was always so damned depressing, we always talked ourselves out of eating there and usually hit the Golden Steer instead.
But over the past year or so, we’ve driven past the billboard on I-15 that proclaims it “BRANDED THE BEST (STEAKHOUSE) FOR 20 YEARS IN A ROW,” so many times, our resistance wore down, and we rose to the bait.