It was a Friday afternoon in Fort Wayne and I knew exactly what to order. Volchy scooped me up at my doorstep and ushered me downtown. We found parking faster than usual: because sometimes things just work out. With no reservation, we showed up at Dana’s mere minutes after opening. Still–it was far from a ghost town. Fort Wayne is big, but not that big, so word of this chic new spot has spread like wildfire. Despite the observed popularity of the newest restaurant to pop-up on The Landing, we scored a table–actually, a cozy little booth. I like the booths. When you go, you should sit at a booth. There’s something intimate about booths; especially black booths with curved backs.
I knew what I wanted to eat before I walked in the door; but it wasn’t any easy choice for me to make. Though I’d like to give the impression that I went into this dining experience with nerves steeled, mind thoroughly made up, and indecision conveniently left on my bedside table–I can’t lie to you. I felt a little uncertain with my choice to dine at Dana’s: new things can be scary for countless reasons. But the menu at Dana’s is seductive, to say the least. It’s a menu to be appreciated–clearly, a team of talented people has put in a lot of work to turn this dreamy vision into a reality. I can say with absolute confidence, there’s not a single dish on the menu that I wouldn’t try. Everything looks and sounds spectacular. Secondly, I think the menu has been more than fairly priced. Yes, even that $120 Côte de Boeuf is fairly priced and I can say that with unwavering certainty because–spoiler alert–it’s what I ordered. Bitch, it comes with tallow fries! They’ve even started serving up a simple, delicious, Champagne vinaigrette dressed salad as a precursor to the steak-show: because 40 minutes is not an inconsequential amount of time to wait for your dinner. (Though I assure you, time flies when you’re eating a scrummy salad.) I digress. A third point for why I’m enamored with the menu at Dana’s is there is no prescribed order. There’s no dictator denoting appetizers from entrees. There’s not even a guide for what’s a small plate or a large plate–and I’m so glad, because frankly, I much prefer when it’s all open for interpretation in the court of common opinion. Rather than tell you how to eat, Dana’s simply lists the food options available. Choose what you will. Eat what you like. Sate your personal level of hunger: because we’re not all built the same and a prescriptive menu, similarly to fast fashion, fits very few.
The wine list isn’t too shabby, either. Volchy turned me on to Carboniste wines after he spent a few days in Cincinnati and explored a Skurnik Wines Portfolio tasting. My personal prediction: this will be the hip bubbly of summer in Fort Wayne. Right now Dana’s is offering the Carboniste Pinot Grigio Pet Nat aka “The Mackerel.” Depending on its interaction with oxygen (as in how recently the bottle was opened) this wine can behave a little differently–or so I’m told. Even with this knowledge: I have no complaints, only raves. The color of my first pour was pretty fucking orange, my friends. (And so was my second pour. Yes, I liked it that much.) This low alcohol sip is giving citrus, she’s giving green fruit, she’s giving yeast, but remaining insanely fresh while she’s giving you an appropriate amount of fizz to the face. If I hadn’t just dropped a puke-inducing amount of money on required bottles of wine for my upcoming WSET class, I’d be purchasing several bottles from Carboniste, just for funs and summertime enjoyment. I’m telling you: Carboniste is going to be the cool kid sip this summer. (I mean, not for me. I’ll be pouring whatever is required of me for class…which is decidedly not a cool kid move. But, like, you should have fun.) Stock up while ya still can, dingus.
As for food, I had my sights set on Fried Olives. I would have also happily eaten Oysters, Steak Tartare, and Tallow Fries with dips–but I suppose this just gives me good reason to go back very soon. As for the Fried Olives: I want to know who gave Dana’s the right to put so many of my favorite things onto one plate and fuck with my feelings like they did. Your girl doesn’t just love an olive–she loves a warm olive, a stuffed olive, a fried olive. Have y’all ever had those fried olive bites that you can sometimes get in the frozen food section at Trader Joe’s? Dana’s basically looked at those and said, “Bet.” These olives are stuffed with spicy nduja for an appropriate kick. The little bites are breaded, fried, and served with a “gorgonzola anchovy sauce.” If that sounds like a total mindfuck, I get it and I can’t fault you. But, if you read those words and your first reaction is something like, “How can I get an IV drip of Gorgonzola Anchovy Sauce” then we can be best friends. If salty isn’t your thing, this dish ain’t for you. To be real, it’s salty as fuck–but I live for these flavors. I will absolutely order these again. Like, real soon–don’t you dare change them.
Volchy thought it would be a nice idea to try some Ratatouille–and he wasn’t wrong. If you’ve seen the iconic film, it’s basically just that. You’re Anton Ego. You take a bite of this beautifully plated, traditional French vegetable dish. You think of your mother. Suddenly, you’re a child. It’s summertime in France. All of the vegetables are fresh and pleasant. The aroma of sun dried herbs tickles your nose before their taste even has a chance to dance on your palate. You are comforted by the knowledge that someone cooked this for you with love: because you are loved. Everything is beautiful and nothing tastes like rats made it–because as much as I love Disney movies, rats probably shouldn’t be in professional kitchens. If that’s a hot take: sorry, I guess. You know those days when it’s so hot out that you almost don’t feel like eating food? Those days are coming. They’re creeping up on the horizon even now. The Ratatouille at Dana’s will be there for you. So fresh. Filling, but light. Exquisite.
Now the salad–which we did not order but were more than happy to receive. It’s a sort of “thank you for your patience while we cook your big-ass steak.” I am not one to tell you how to eat. You should eat as much or as little as you need to feel full. I am someone who can house a big steak pretty easily–no regrets. It is my personal opinion that, if you’re getting that humongous steak–which comes with fries and a salad–you probably don’t need other noms. Even split amongst two people, it’s quite a bit of food. Could I do it alone? Depends on the day, but generally speaking: solid maybe. That’s just me though. And, if you don’t intend to take home leftovers, hopefully you’ve entered the situation pretty famished. Now, all this is to say that, I am someone who loves a simple salad: and Dana’s is delivering here. At the time of writing this, the salad isn’t even on the menu. I think they’re just tossing it together for anyone who orders steak and, truly, it’s a boon for us steak eaters. Mixed greens, with olives, some herbs, and a bit of onion and shallot. I even found a clove or two of creamy garlic and a light sprinkling of green onion. The whole ordeal is topped with a snowfall of these uber flavorful, perfectly toasted breadcrumbs–maybe the best part of the whole thing. I am very much team breadcrumb over team crouton. I think there’s a time and place for croutons, but they’re widely overused and generally poorly executed; because who wants to break a tooth on weakly-flavored stale bread while trying to eat some healthy veg? It doesn’t matter–it’s not even a concern with this gorgeous salad. Brilliant ingredients are dressed in a bright Champagne vinaigrette. There’s some leftover salad in my fridge right now and I’m fighting the urge to go get it and finish it. It’s late in the evening. I don’t normally like to eat this late. Fuck it…I’m getting the salad. It’s so utterly delightful. Currently, there’s a wedge salad on the menu at Dana’s. We love to see it. But, hard truth, if they put this salad that accompanied the steak onto the menu as its own thing…I would order it consistently.
Now for the steak: a masterpiece of epic proportions. A 42 day dry-aging process on a 32 ounce ribeye. The steak is cooked flawlessly, topped with a more-than-generous slab of compound butter (which, if I’m nitpicking, was perhaps significantly colder than it should have been: just respectful food for thought if anyone is looking for a way to improve upon perfection) and served up with a side of Béarnaise for dipping. The tallow fries that come with the steak are frankly mystifying to me. These hand cut fries are hefty and flavorful–they’re tossed in malt vinegar powder and served up with a sprig of rosemary. All of your senses are at play when enjoying these fries. Their exterior is ridiculously crisp while the interior remains fluffier than cumulonimbus clouds. If you just order the Tallow Fries alone, they come with three dips. The Tallow Fries that are served with the steak do not automagically come with three dips: but if you ask really, really, really nicely somebody might bring you the dips anyway. No promises. If you are someone living in or around Fort Wayne, Indiana and you happen to enjoy steak frites, you should not deprive yourself of this iteration. I can’t promise that you’ll find your absolute new favorite steak frites dinner–because everyone seems to hold strong personal opinions on this particular plate–but you will most certainly find a top contender. How you enjoy this Côte de Beouf is entirely up to you. It’s all about what you want out of the evening. Like I said earlier, this offering is absolutely sharable: though I still contend I could wreck this steak dinner alone, with the right attitude and a glass of Cabernet Franc.
You already know what comes next. Do I even need to say it? Go to Dana’s. Choose literally anything off their menu; it’s dripping with wonderful options for carnivores, herbivores, and omnivores alike. Go there with friends or family or your mortal enemy if you’re trying to show them a good time for some reason–I won’t judge. If you’re feeling it, try the Pet Nat, it rules. Or don’t. There’s a whole list of wines, cocktails, and beers for you to explore. Do as I say, not as I do, except when I tell you to check out Dana’s–then do exactly as I say. If you see me there and notice a 32 oz dry aged steak coming to my table once I’ve wrecked the salad, don’t be surprised. Give a girl a big steak and a glass of Cab Franc and she can take on the world.
Plonk & Pleasure 
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