Primed for Success

From humble beginnings came the twists on traditional fare that have made him famous among gastronomes, including a candied lemon-smothered Angry Lobster, salmon pastrami and his signature pretzel-encrusted crab cake.

The cheesecake lollipop tree -- a whimsical collision of confection and architecture -- helped seal his reputation as a culinary innovator and inspired a slew of nicknames that summon everything from Roald Dahl to rock 'n roll.

"Someone even called me the Bruce Springsteen of chefs," he grins. "I'll take it. It's a hell of a lot better than 'he's a perfectionist at seasoning.' "

But before visiting Primehouse, I was a little concerned. Lollipop trees and foie gras/oxtail dumplings aside, all that matters at a steakhouse is the meat. And Burke admits that it took a lot of discipline to keep the Primehouse menu from being too clever by half.

"It was important to stay true to the steakhouse. I know that when I go for steak, I want a great piece of meat, some creamed spinach and maybe some mashed potatoes," he said. "You shouldn't even need a menu when you walk in."

Where's the Beef?

Entering the restaurant, which is part of the St. James hotel, I was pleasantly surprised by a warmer ambiance than what typical hotel restaurant houses.

Sinking into an enormous leather banquette, hidden behind a 10-Commandments-sized menu, the steakhouse essence of the Primehouse was an immediate comfort. The decor whispered in reassuring tones that the rib-eye would be more than eye candy, and that there would be no funny business with my surf and turf.

Burke keeps it simple, sprinkling the choices with some signature appetizers and kickers like fill-your-own doughnut holes. The menu's main dishes stuck to the basics: a classic filet mignon, a New York sirloin, a porterhouse and a rib-eye.

On all fronts, the restaurant's porterhouse met and even exceeded nearly every metric used to judge a good steak. It was succulent, silky in texture and decadently rich. It made the already superfluous complimentary steak sauces (who puts sauce on a quality cut of meat?) seem obscene. And it made you think that the heart attack might just be worth it.

	David Burke in his Element

On the other hand, the New York sirloin was good, but not great. It took a little more gnawing than I would have liked, and it lacked the depth of mineral flavor and sweetness that the porterhouse had. Inoffensive and forgotten, it was the gastronomic equivalent of a company that has a decent quarter, but doesn't blow away the numbers.

However, it would be hard to get too upset about the meal, which included a Caesar salad made tableside that would make Julia Child proud. Topped with crab-cake croutons, it made the palate sing.

The Kobe beef sashimi served on a block of Himalayan salt with truffle sauce and mushroom chips melted like a pat of butter on the tongue; the sides were as good as can be expected when all you really want is red meat.

And the wine list was vast, well put together and reasonably priced. All the little details were in order, right down to a list of fantastic cocktails. (Try the Manhattan Redux, a soothing glass of leather-infused Maker's Mark as a twist on the traditional.)

While squelching a hit of chocolate sauce in my fresh-from-the-fryer doughnut hole, I had to agree with Burke. It's not yet the best. But all the right ingredients are there, and in short order, Primehouse should live up to Burke's vision, successfully bridging the gap between prime steak joint and font of inventive cuisine.

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