Kincaid's Offers a Luxurious Last Call

It would appear that I am buying a house. And while most people see homeownership as a step towards long-term asset building, I am nervous about kicking my Kate Spade habit to pay a monthly mortgage and am terrified about what I'll do once I sign on the dotted line and all of my appliances break. Greedy strolls through the aisles at Sephora, guilt-free splurges in the artisanal cheese section of Kowalski's market, and luxurious meals at certain local restaurants will take a back seat to my tiny slice of south Minneapolis. I am buying a house, so bring on the ramen.

To celebrate the onset of a frugal girlfriend, Jack took me out for one last fling of luxurious dining. Kincaid's certainly fit the bill.

Dining at Kincaid's is a stately experience. The inside is dark, embellished with mahogany, studded with brass, and layered with rich oil paintings. Patio diners can peek at a corner of the elegant St. Paul Hotel, the pink granite facade of the historic Landmark Center, and can peer into the windows of a nearby haberdashery. And while I had always been under the impression that Kincaid's was a steakhouse, I was surprised at the breadth of their menu. Dishes like Lobster Mac N Cheese put the culture in cult comfort food favorites, while the Spicy Ahi Toastada provides diners with more worldly adventure.

I opted for the Seafood Louie, a hearty salad topped with cold dungeness crab, small shrimp, and half a fillet of grilled salmon. The salad came served with a generous side of 1,000 Island dressing, but the veggies were so crisp and the seafood so flavorful that I only dabbed the dressing. My dining partner opted for the Bacon Wrapped Kobe meatloaf. I was skeptical as to whether it's really necessary to pulverize Kobe beef, mix it with meatloaf fixings, and stuff it into the oven for hours. But this dish was so top-notch that I was still thinking about it on the way to work today. The bacon was thick and meaty, yet didn't seem to make the meatloaf greasy. The meatloaf itself was soft and tender yet lacked that damp, Gerber-like consistency that is so common. My meal was great, but Kincaid's really hit meatloaf out of the park.

When our plates had been cleared and we had finally finished our after-dinner coffee, we walked through the front door of Kincaid's, crossed St. Peter and Market, strolled through Rice Park, meandered past a wedding reception at the Landmark Center, and slowly looped back to the car. I felt elegant. I felt established. And somehow, if even for a few hours, losing Kate Spade didn't seem so frightening.