The Capital Grille

Walking into The Capital Grille 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: polished mahogany and oil portraits. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with chopped salad with too much bacon, exactly right, 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: dry-aged sirloin, the dish that puts The Capital Grille on every short list. It arrived faintly hissing on a heated plate, the kind of small detail that tells you the kitchen still cares about the last twenty seconds before service. The signature touch — the Stoli Doli at the bar — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for skin-on fries, twice-fried 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 tiramisu, just barely too much, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

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