Cattlemen's Steakhouse

Walking into Cattlemen's Steakhouse for the first time is a small piece of theatre, and that is before any food has arrived.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Stockyards City, paper menus, lifers behind the counter. 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 heavy California zinfandel, no apologies, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: t-bone, the dish that puts Cattlemen's Steakhouse on every short list. It arrived faintly hissing on a heated plate, the kind of small detail that tells you the kitchen still cares about the last twenty seconds before service. The signature touch — lamb fries before the steak, every time — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for asparagus with hollandaise and pommes Anna. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a slab of New York cheesecake, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.