Alpine Steakhouse

I have been writing for Edible Sarasota close to eight years now and in that time I have yet to be disappointed with an assignment. I’ve gotten to interview rock legend Brian Johnson, discovered some damn fine fried chicken at a Texaco way down Fruitville Road, and gotten paid to eat what is arguably the world’s best doughnut from Peachey’s Baking Company, among many other memorable stories.

But every so often, a piece comes along that just hits me right in the feels. The story in the sidebar that accompanies this article tugged on my heart something fierce, both as a mother and as a human, but it certainly isn’t empathy alone that makes Alpine Steakhouse so special. What is truly remarkable about this place is how deeply saturated every aspect of the business is with the sense of family. There’s something significant about going to a place that feels like home and treats you like kin while also selling and serving up what may be the city’s best steaks. Doubt it? Go see for yourself.

There’s a bit of nostalgia lurking around every corner of this 45-year-old establishment that has been the backbone of the Rebhan family for three generations. Checkered flooring, smoked ribs made on site, jarred mustards like many a grandfather always had on hand, a deli counter fully stocked with today’s fresh cuts, and a no-frills mustachioed butcher all create a sense of yesteryear.

Yet Alpine also manages to bring unique and modern offerings to the table, keeping the business cool and current. Classics like giant ribeyes and hot Italian sausage line the case while trendier items like house-made, grassfed bone broth and Japanese Kobe burgers are stocked in the cooler nearby and Cajun Shrimp takes the top spot on the daily menu board. Name it, they’ve got it. And if they don’t, they’ll get it for you. Quail, sweetbreads, rabbit, sauerbraten, venison, gator, elk—there’s not much that father-son owners Mark and Matt Rebhan can’t get their hands on.

“We’re an old-fashioned full butcher shop,” says Mark, whose own father, Henry, opened Alpine back in 1975. “We grind our own meat, and we cut and dry-age our own steaks,” he says, adding that “people hardly buy” anything by the pound anymore. They buy it by the package.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“People buy things because of the way it’s marketed these days, because a company made the packaging appealing,” he explains. “We sell our meat by the pound because that’s just the way a meat market is supposed to be. Why would you buy a four-ounce filet?” Good point.

Another point in Alpine’s favor is the price. Everything is, well, reasonable. Sure, some things are pricier than others—a filet is still a filet, after all—but their prices pale in comparison to many other specialty shops’ and aren’t even in the same ballpark as many of our elite restaurants.

But the biggest win, by far, is the quality. Everything Alpine carries is USDA Prime. “Not Choice, not Select,” Mark tells me. “Only 4 percent of the cattle in the country are considered Prime. It makes for the best marbling.”

Beef aside, Alpine always opts for the highest quality, standards, and practices when it comes to anything they bring in, which even includes an impressive selection of wines and over 60 imported beers. No meat is ever frozen, nothing comes shrink-wrapped or out of a box, and meats are hormone-free, chemical-free, and often from animals that were free to roam.

“The highest quality at the lowest price,” I say. “Why?”

“There’s just no need to be greedy,” Mark replies, which seems almost rebellious in today’s gimme-gimme-gimme society.

Since we’re keeping score, it’s also worth noting that Alpine even caters to canines. “We carry marrow bones, chicken necks, beef hearts, and a lot of other things that are perfectly edible but really appeal to breeders and dog owners,” says Mark.

Alpine Steakhouse remains the first and only place in the entire state that sells the unbelievably complicated TurDucKen, a Cajun dish where a whole boneless turkey is stuffed, and I do mean stuffed, with a whole boneless chicken, which in turn is stuffed with a whole boneless duck, sausage, and seasoned bread dressing. It “requires the knife skills of a surgeon” and takes 16 hours to prepare.

“I’m not a big fan of it myself,” says Mark, who has been making them since the ’80s. “I’m more of a steak guy, but I’ll tell you a funny story,” he continues. “Years ago, I got a call from a lady who said they wanted to film me making it. I figured it was a prank call so I said ‘Yeah, sure, come on by’ and thought nothing of it. Thankfully, she called back as it turned out it was for ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!’”

“Are prank calls still a thing?” I ask, clearly out of touch with whatever the kids are doing these days.

“Oh yeah. I get calls all the time,” says Mark. “Kids call and say ‘Do you have pigs’ feet?’ I tell them I do and they can hardly contain their laughter when they ask ‘Well then, where do you get their shoes?’ I actually enjoy it. It’s nice to see kids still using innocent imagination.”

Alpine Steakhouse has been around for 45 years with no plans of stopping any time soon. Mark’s son, Matt, is due to take the helm and, God willing, someday, perhaps Matt’s son Logan will step right up to continue this lovely family’s legacy.

4520 S Tamiami Trl, Sarasota; 941-922-3797; alpinesteak.com

LOGAN:

“The hardest thing is feeling helpless,” says Matt Rebhan, whose 11-month-old son Logan is about to enter his ninth month of treatment for an incredibly rare form of acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

“I came home on a Saturday in October and he just looked extremely pale. The next day, my wife and I knew something was off .” On Monday they took him to the pediatrician and by Tuesday Logan began the first day of a two-year trial of a new chemotherapy treatment at All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg.

You don’t have to be a parent to understand the devastation, confusion, and despair Matt and his wife, Heather, must have felt when the doctor delivered the diagnosis that their 3-month-old baby boy would now need to undergo intense treatments and procedures including injections, anesthesia, and lumbar punctures.

“He’s resilient, though,” says Matt while scrolling through a few videos showing a joyful Logan in the hospital laughing with his mom just hours after a procedure. “So is his mama,” he adds.

Currently, Heather has paused her career to focus solely on her family while Matt continues to work as hard as he can to support his wife and child.

If you’d like to help support baby Logan and his family at a time when they need it most, please consider making a donation to gofundme.com/logansleukemiafund. Additionally, you can always pop in to Alpine Steakhouse and buy a #TEAMLOGAN T-shirt or drop a dollar into the teddy bear jar on the counter.

In the words of the late Robert F. Kennedy, “The purpose of life is to contribute in some way to making things better.”