Yes I know, I should build up to it, write tales about majestic deer and redskin hunters, but basically that's what it was. I ate elk.
It wasn't my intention to go elk-hunting. I was quite content at aiming for tasty slices of the domesticated bull and San Diego magazine gave me recommendations about steakhouses in downtown. At the top of the list was Greystone the Steakhouse so I landed up and sat at the bar in front of a fairly bustling dining room filled with suits and little black dresses. Rod the bartender gave me a choice between ribeye and elk, and of course my adventurous instincts took over. Elk sounded like a definite beenthere donethat - evoking eskimo hunts and igloo campfires and extreme survival in bitter conditions - so I jumped. It promised a crust of s and all kinds of other nice stuff.
The elk steak turned out to be a mildly flavored meat; tender and juicy but more exotic that gourmet. Seems I was wrong about the eskimos too - this deer is supposedly wandering all over the continental US, and, like many of us, avoids Alaska when it can. There's also a good reason why Texans are so much nicer to cows than elk - beef is definitely tastier.
As for Greystone, it was competent enough as a steakhouse but not quite befitting the top dollar it charges. Many steakhouses have been better at that price (a 3-course came to all of $82), and though I didn't taste the beef itself I wasn't too ecstatic about either the elk (which they advertise prominently) or the trimmings. Not that it was bad, but definitely not anything to drool over. A more competent steak came out of Rainwaters on Kettner where the ribeye was wonderfully fatty, nicely charred on the outside, dripping with juices and definitely droolworthy. The only drawback was that on a Thursday evening, I was the only one in the whole restaurant. Steakhouses serve an atmosphere as much as they serve slabs of meat, so that was a little disappointing.