Many DC restaurants serve up fussy and faddish fare. Not the Prime Rib. Excuse a bit of stereotyping, but power is still best exemplified by sitting in a dark-wood dining room cutting deals over huge hunks of seared cow, stepping outside for a cigar (damned smoking ban) then returning for a cognac. Regulars swear by the daily specials ($24 to $30).
The waitstaff, clad in tuxedos, dress the part, and you’d better too – that means ties and jackets at dinner, gentlemen. 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.