Goodman

Walking into Goodman 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: Mayfair, leather banquettes, no nonsense. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with bone marrow with a small salad of capers and parsley, 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: usda bone-in ribeye, the dish that puts Goodman on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — Himalayan-salt dry-aged sirloin — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for skin-on fries, twice-fried and grilled radicchio with anchovy butter. 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 will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.