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Jack’s opened in the 1930s as a speakeasy founded by the current owner’s uncle. The soft glow of fringed lamps, an embossed copper ceiling, paisley banquettes, and a polished mahogany bar sustain the antique effect, as does the menu, dominated by dry-aged beefsteaks, with pride of place ceded to the 48-ounce porterhouse (for two) and the kobe beef, hand-massaged in sake. A more manageable rib-eye arrives well-charred, doused in peppery Cajun sauce, and sliced, as are all the steaks. Old-school sides include creamy, nutmeg-flecked spinach. Some appetizers venture out on a limb, with satisfying results: Decadent oysters on the half shell are topped by pungent melted Roquefort, spinach, and salty pancetta bits. And though the walls have stories to tell, you won’t hear them over cigars; stogies are no longer served as a post-prandial coda, pace Michael Bloomberg. — Kate Appleton

There is a $25 corkage fee for diners who bring their own bottle.

Oysters on the half shell, M/P, creamed spinach, $8, rib-eye steak, $45