Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse

I had been meaning to get to Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse for years. I will not wait that long again.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Rush Street power-lunch energy from open to close. 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 Napa cabernet old enough to drink itself, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: chicago cut bone-in ribeye, the dish that puts Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse on every short list. There was a thumb of butter melting into the cross-hatch, and a single sprig of thyme on top, and not one thing more. The signature touch — the Gibsons cut, eight inches tall — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for skin-on fries, twice-fried and buttered haricots verts. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.