St. Elmo Steak House

I have eaten in a lot of dining rooms that try this hard. St. Elmo Steak House 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: downtown Indy institution with checked floors. 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 a glass of port to finish, and then another, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bone-in ribeye, the dish that puts St. Elmo Steak House on every short list. The crust was the colour of dark mahogany, and the inside was a confident, even pink the whole way through. The signature touch — the shrimp cocktail, the one that hurts — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for grilled radicchio with anchovy 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 slab of New York cheesecake, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I paid the bill, walked out into the Indianapolis evening, and put the address back into the notebook with a star next to it.