Keens

I have eaten in a lot of dining rooms that try this hard. Keens is one of the few that pulls it off without looking like it is trying.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: clay pipes on the ceiling and theater bills under glass. 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 Chianti Classico Riserva I wrote down in my notebook, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: mutton chop and prime rib, the dish that puts Keens on every short list. Was it the very best steak I have ever eaten? No. Was it among the dozen I think about most? Yes. The signature touch — the mutton chop, of course — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for wild mushrooms in butter and buttered haricots verts. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a wedge of chocolate cake to share, fork divided, 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.