The following essay appears in  Cake Zine ‘s new special issue  Steak Zine  and is co-published here with permission. In 1967, in the heart of Manhattan’s theater district, my grandfather Jerry opened a steakhouse. The Cattle Baron took the energy of a theme restaurant and gave it an adult polish. Red and white tablecloths, quilted wall panels, dark wood accents, and uplight chandeliers accented the red brick walls, while waitstaff appeared in “Western attire.” The following year, advertisements in Playbill and the New York Post implored eaters to “Break the Dull Steak House Habit” by patronizing Jerry Ossip’s Cattle Baron. “We looked around at the steak house scene. And we found it dreary,” the ad proclaimed. “We opened up the Cattle Baron for you men (and your women) who hunger for the best steak in town—and something else, besides.” The real draw sat just above these words: a black-and-white image of a woman kneeling naked in a Stetson, glancing seductively over her shoulder.…