Pappas Bros. Steakhouse

We came to Pappas Bros. Steakhouse on a Tuesday because the calendar was kinder than the weekend. The room was three-quarters full and somehow more honest for it.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: Texas grand-hotel scale, hushed and serious. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with house-cured beef carpaccio, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Burgundy that arrived too cold and rewarded patience, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: 44-day dry-aged ribeye, the dish that puts Pappas Bros. Steakhouse 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 sommelier list, longer than the menu — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for hash browns the size of a hubcap and creamed spinach so rich it should embarrass us. 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.