Sir Winston Churchill's

Walking into Sir Winston Churchill's 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: fireplaces, claret, club ties. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with Caesar salad assembled tableside, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered an Argentine malbec the waiter chose for me, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: prime rib, the dish that puts Sir Winston Churchill's 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 Tudor house in Polanco, a complete time warp — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap and wild mushrooms in butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was tiramisu, just barely too much, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

If you are passing through Mexico City, do not pass Sir Winston Churchill's by.