Where can you find a dining experience in the Twin Cities that feels just like the meals your parents or even your grandparents enjoyed? Mancini’s Char House is the answer.
Mancini’s began as a small tavern on West Seventh Street in 1948, where Nick Mancini and his family served the working-class community with homemade dishes and a warm smile. Over the years, Nick’s dedication to hospitality and high-quality food turned the establishment into a renowned steakhouse. He worked tirelessly to perfect his recipes, even traveling to Italy and New York to learn grilling techniques. With time, Mancini’s grew from a cozy bar into a bustling supper club that attracted everyone from local families to state lawmakers and sports stars.
Quick history lesson, in 1880, German immigrant Albin Riedel arrived in New York City and eventually settled near present-day Fridley, Minnesota, where he built a life for his family. Together with his wife, Ida, they raised nine children and operated a successful dairy farm that delivered fresh milk to the local community. By 1918, Riedel sold part of his land to the Great Northern Railroad and reinvested in his dairy business, launching Sanitary Farm Dairies in St. Paul and eventually into Iowa and Texas.
Fast forward to the 1970s, when Jimmy Taylor—my father-in-law’s father—joined the ranks at St. Paul’s Sanitary Farm Dairies. Working there from 1970 until 1977, Jimmy played a key role in delivering high-quality dairy products to local establishments. One of his frequent customers was none other than Nick Mancini, the owner of Mancini’s, a beloved St. Paul steakhouse known for its warm atmosphere and exceptional service. Nick would call up Jimmy for milk, butter, and sour cream for the restaurant, and in response, Jimmy would send a truck loaded with whatever Nick needed.
Today, as the third and fourth generations of the Mancini family continue the legacy, the restaurant remains a beloved institution in St. Paul. The atmosphere still echoes the charm of the Rat Pack era that Nick envisioned, with live music filling the air and families gathering to enjoy meals together. The intimate dining experience, with its legendary steaks cooked over open-hearth grills (where the flames rise, searing the steaks and allowing juices to drip and create smoke, enhancing the flavor and char) pays homage to the family’s roots while welcoming a new generation of diners—like myself.
This past weekend, I got the chance to visit Mancini’s as a first timer for my father-in-law Mark’s birthday—and I could tell by the proud grin on his face as we walked to our table that I was in for something special. For Mark, sitting in one of myriad dining rooms at Mancini’s was bringing fond memories to the surface, where he recalled special occasions when the Taylors would dine there. The restaurant, a staple in the community, was where celebrations took place, and Mark said it was impossible to forget the charm of Nick himself. He would often stop by the table to chat, raising his hand in a circular motion—a signal for the staff to bring another round of drinks to the table. This gesture was a small yet significant part of the hospitality that defined Mancini’s and made every visit feel like a celebration with an extended family.
To this day, Mancini’s offers a classic supper club experience, where each table is adorned with a relish tray soaked in Italian dressing, featuring pickles, peppers, and tomatoes, alongside charred garlic toast (you can really taste the char flavor on the bread). While steak and fish take the spotlight, a selection of chicken entrees rounds out the offerings, showcasing the timeless appeal of supper club cuisine that continues to thrive throughout the Midwest. I ordered the signature New York Strip steak accompanied by a side salad and foil-wrapped baked potato. A potato is always a potato, but the steak? It was easily the best I’ve ever had. It was perfectly cooked, and the sear was delicious, adding just the right amount of salty char flavor. (Steak sauce is available upon request, but I almost think it would be offensive to ask for it here. And you won’t need it, I promise.)
Lo and behold, about midway through our meal, Pat Mancini—Nick’s son, who runs the place with his brother John—stopped by our table to chat. Mark beamed, as Pat jovially shook his hand and wished him a happy birthday. I had a feeling this wasn’t the first (nor the last) time a Mancini would do this for my father-in-law. Then like clockwork, our server brought out a white box and small birthday cake with two candles, specially for Mark. I’m told this cake isn’t on the menu but is only served to guests for special occasions.