Cut by Wolfgang Puck

I had been meaning to get to Cut by Wolfgang Puck for years. I will not wait that long again.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Richard Meier white walls and California lighting. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with French onion soup with the cap of cheese intact, 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: american wagyu strip, the dish that puts Cut by Wolfgang Puck 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 — the bone marrow flan — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap and asparagus with hollandaise. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was vanilla ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

It is not cheap. It is, in this case, worth it.