Bern's Steak House

It rained the whole afternoon I spent at Bern's Steak House, and I cannot now imagine eating there in any other weather.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: red-velvet maze of dining rooms. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with grilled provoleta with chimichurri, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a glass of port to finish, and then another, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: chateaubriand, the dish that puts Bern's Steak House on every short list. The crust was the colour of dark mahogany, and the inside was a confident, even pink the whole way through. The signature touch — the half-million-bottle wine cellar — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for potato gratin with a dark crust and fried okra and a dab of remoulade. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was panna cotta with stewed cherries, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I paid the bill, walked out into the Tampa evening, and put the address back into the notebook with a star next to it.