Keens

Walking into Keens 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: 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 a single chuleta of cured pork to set the mood, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered Rioja gran reserva, decanted at the table, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: mutton chop and prime rib, the dish that puts Keens on every short list. Cut through it and you found that deep, beefy, almost iron-tasting interior that only comes from time and dry air. The signature touch — the mutton chop, of course — 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 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.