St. Elmo Steak House

It rained the whole afternoon I spent at St. Elmo Steak House, and I cannot now imagine eating there in any other weather.

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 small dish of marinated white anchovies, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Napa cabernet old enough to drink itself, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bone-in ribeye, the dish that puts St. Elmo Steak House 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 shrimp cocktail, the one that hurts — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

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

Dessert was vanilla ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.