Two Greeks and a steakhouse on 3rd Street
In 1984, Pete and Aristea Kontinakis walked into a little restaurant on 3rd Street in Farmington and made it their own. They were Greek immigrants — chasing a version of the American dream that doesn't make headlines anymore. The kind built on long hours, calloused hands, and a stubborn refusal to cut corners.
Pete grilled. Aristea ran the kitchen. Together, they built something that wasn't just a restaurant — it was a place where the whole town could come, sit down, and feel like they belonged.
Behind the counter. Same setup. Same family. Forty years on.
Forty years of doing it the hard way
We've never been the fancy steakhouse. We don't have white tablecloths or a sommelier. We've never had a website that does us justice (yet). We don't take credit cards.
What we do have is real food, made by real people, for real prices. Every steak still gets grilled in front of you. Every potato is real. Every piece of baklava is layered by hand from Aristea's family recipe — the same one her mother taught her in Greece, the same one she taught her daughters here in Minnesota.
The walls tell stories. The cars have been up there almost as long as the family has.
Pete's legacy
Pete passed away on October 14, 2012.
Twenty-eight years he stood at that grill. He knew his customers by name. He remembered their kids. He'd slip an extra Texas toast on the tray for the regulars. The day he passed, this town felt it.
But Aristea didn't close the doors. She couldn't. Their two daughters wouldn't let her — they grew up in this restaurant. They knew every recipe, every regular, every reason it mattered.
So they kept going. The grill stayed hot. The lights stayed on. The family stayed together. And every day since 2012, they've been cooking the way Pete would have cooked it.
The grill Pete worked for 28 years. It's still hot.
Still on the menu, to this day
“We miss you, Pete.”
Open any menu at Farmington Steak House and you'll find those four words, tucked next to the dining section. They've been printed there since 2012. The family put them there. The family leaves them there. They're not a tribute. They're a promise.
What you're really getting
When you walk in to Farmington Steak House, you're not just buying a steak. You're sitting at the table of a family that has been feeding this town for two generations. You're tasting the recipes a Greek widow brought from her homeland and her daughters kept alive.
You're part of a story that started in 1984 and is still being written, one tray at a time.
“Eating here is truly like stepping into a time machine.”
— A regular, recently