By: Michael G. Reel
Not long ago, I received an invitation to a teen’s birthday dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. Yes, you read that right—Ruth’s Chris. For a 15-year-old. I paused, reread the invite, and thought: Whatever happened to hot dogs, chips, punch, and birthday cake? Back when blowing out candles was the main event, not choosing between a Porterhouse and a Bone-in Filet.
Growing up, birthday parties were simple and joyful. We played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, took wild swings at a piñata stuffed with candy, and ran around until the sugar crash hit. As we got older, the menu matured—spaghetti, green salad, and a 16 oz can of soda-pop became the standard. It wasn’t fancy, but it was festive. And it didn’t require a reservation or a credit check.
So when the Ruth’s Chris invite landed in my inbox, I had questions. Was the host footing the bill for the birthday boy and the guests? Or was I expected to cover my own meal and chip in for the celebrant’s sizzling steak? Should I bring a card with a crisp Benjamin tucked inside, or would a heartfelt “Happy Birthday” suffice?
Truth is, I’ve grown wary of group birthday dinners at high-end restaurants. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy myself… until the bill arrives and folks start itemizing what they didn’t eat. “I didn’t have the crab cakes.” “I only drank water.” If you don’t cut it out! These days, when I do attend, I order my Hendrick’s or Bombay cocktails directly from the bar and request a separate tab. Saves the drama.
I can already picture the moment the Ruth’s Chris bill hits the table. The waiter places it down gently. A hush falls. Eyes dart. Calculators come out. And suddenly, the joy of celebration turns into a math problem.
Let’s talk numbers. Ruth’s Chris isn’t your average steakhouse. Founded in 1927 by Chris Matulich in New Orleans, it was later purchased by Ruth Fertel in 1965, who added her name and turned it into a fine-dining institution. According to their website, steaks are seared in an 1800° oven and served on a 500° plate—hot, buttery, and unapologetically expensive.
Here’s a taste of the menu:
- USDA Prime New York Strip (16 oz): $61
- T-Bone: $72
- Lamb Chops: $64
- Pork Chops: $42
- Porterhouse: $124
- Bone-in Filet: $89
And don’t forget the Signature Sides—those are extra.
Robin Hilmantel of What to Expect recently told USA TODAY, “We noticed a clear trend toward birthday parties for children becoming more elaborate… driven largely by social media.” Parents now feel compelled to throw Pinterest-worthy parties with themed decor, gourmet food, and curated party favors. It’s not just a celebration—it’s content.
Talk to any parent of a teenager and you’ll hear about birthday weekends that rival wedding budgets. We’re talking $2,000–$3,000 for hotel stays, paintball outings, sporting events with VIP seating, spa treatments, and TikTok-worthy lunches. Boys want action. Girls want pampering. Everyone wants likes.
And let’s not forget My Super Sweet 16, MTV’s ode to excess, which aired from 2005 to 2017. It didn’t just document lavish parties—it normalized them. Suddenly, every teen wanted a red carpet, a celebrity cameo, and a car reveal.
So yes, I’ll be attending the birthday dinner at Ruth’s Chris. I’ll raise a glass, toast the young celebrant, and enjoy my Tomahawk Ribeye and Hendricks on the rocks. But I’ll also be requesting a separate bill. Because while I’m happy to celebrate, I’m not trying to finance a filet mignon coming-of-age ceremony.
