Prime Rib

There are lots of K St restaurants that serve up fusiony, modernist, wasabi-crusted-panko-seaweed-octopus-brioche kinda fare. Not the Prime Rib. Excuse a bit of chauvinism, but power, friends, is still best exemplified by sitting in a dark-wood dining room cutting deals over hunks of seared cow the size of a midget, then stepping outside for a cigar (damned smoking ban) and coming back in for a cognac. With a side of testosterone. The wait staff, clad in tuxedos, dress the part, and you’d better too – that means ties and jackets, men. Actually, you don’t need the jacket at lunch, at which time the Rib del-ivers a $25 set menu that is quite a good deal. The food lives up to the atmosphere; while this place may not be cutting edge, that doesn’t mean it isn’t good at what it does.